#where the wisteria grows

[0xochitlsketches0]

I knew you once~

I threw Aubrey, Izabella, and Wisteria to my page about 2 years back and then never further elaborated on them haha. 

Which sucks because they were supposed to be my experimental oc’s in me getting more comfortable with sharing my original ideas online. Ah well, it happens.

So take these character info crumbs I throw at you, a snippet into their past history.

This animatic was supposed to be a couple of things, one, depicting Aubrey and Izabells past relationship and current tension they both have with each other, two working on emotional tone in visuals and three, character acting.

I think I did okay in each category hskjqhdqk ʕ•̫͡•ʔ  

Is also serves as a sort of “test” run for a bigger sequence I’m gonna start later this week. I also added lip sync in it because I wanted to practice with that, honestly, it was not the best idea to merge them but it is what it is haha 

Im going to try and upload more sketches of them more often heheheh

[obsidian-vineyard84]

Been reading the manga recently

Had a lot of thoughts, and talks with @emotionallyglued about my fics storyline

[dreaisgrayte]

Half Blood | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, TW! YN does get assaulted, mentions of blood, drinking blood, gore, how many times do I mention claws? Oral fem!receiving, fingering, kissing, breeding kink, virgin sex, creampie, and overstimulation.

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: guys this started off as a quick break from a Sanemi fic I'm working on (keep in mind I think short fics are no longer than 3k) and here I am... with a way longer fic than I intended and something I actually want to expand on in the future. It was a lot of fun to write this so I hope you enjoy it <3

“You,” His pink irises are illuminated by the moon high in the night sky. The blood within your body cools as you stare back at the man who stored your fate. His inky black hair flows down his shoulder in waves. A deep blue yukata loosely hung on his frame. “I’ve been watching you.” Muzan growls, edging ever closer to where you stood. His pointed canines glinted in the light, his nails sharp and ready to claw at your jugular. The demon king rolls his tongue along the tips of his teeth, studying you carefully. Was he deciding whether or not to feast upon your flesh?

He had never seen such a creature as yourself. Your skin was glowing, soft, and supple. The lavender color yukata covered most of your body, a delicate pattern of white flowers spanning the kosode fabric. Your obi was white with purple vines flowing around it. You wear simple white tabies paired with purple strapped zori. Elegance and grace radiated from you. He could smell the wisteria perfume in your hair. 

It was strange, you were a confrontation to the world he wanted to live in – yet something he could not tear his eyes away from. Here you were, standing in front of him without fear. He rather thought it would be better fun if you were afraid, he did so enjoy the chase. Though, there was – of course – a reason you relented in running away from him. Your eyes were stormy, eclipsed by thousands of emotions. That’s when a different smell, that had not yet hit him, tickled his nose. Blood, and not just any blood. You had the blood of a demon in you. Your stern, furrowed brows, with the revolting smell of wisteria burning his nose. You confused him. “What are you?” He purs out, not sure if what would come out of your mouth would be a lie or truth. He could always figure it out for himself one way or another. 

Your lip ticks, a show of annoyance you’d yet to master. The man in front of you knew, he could smell it, of that you were sure. Yet, he dared ask. What are you? You’d been told many times what you were. An abomination. A curse. A monster. “Are you not the demon king?” You spit back, growing angry. Would the other half of you reject your existence as well? You had hoped at least the demons would have the scarce bit of comradery running through their systems. Muzan’s brows lift, then knit together. Did he need to answer you? After all, he could easily swipe at your neck to kill you for being so insolent. The eager need to hear what you had to say captivated him though. 

When the man does not answer you tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “Here I thought the mighty demon king would be able to tell me apart from the rest.” You shake your head, laughing stiffly into the night. In a flash Muzan has you pinned to the trunk of a tree. Splinters etch toward your face from the very force of his hand. His muscular body cages you in and it takes you a moment to realize how your body aches to be near him. 

“I can smell you,” He mutters, squinting his beautiful eyes like he couldn’t quite distinguish what he was looking at. “You assault my senses, it’s driving me mad. There’s something different about you.” Muzan had first observed you walking in your village one evening, the way people sneered and cowered at your presence intrigued him. He found himself looking for you every night, wondering what your story was. These villagers were shunning you. He wished to know why such a pretty thing as yourself would be outcasted in her own village. “You smell like me, yet you are not. So I ask you again, what are you?” His voice is low, edging on the precipice of anger. 

You do not yield in holding his gaze. “I am you, yet I am not. Born of the sun and moon. A half-blood.” 20 years ago your mother found herself in the entertainment district, serving the pleasures of others. A man came to visit her on multiple occasions. Eventually, the two ran away together. Sharing in love and secrets. Your mother was a demon and your father a local carpenter. How you were able to be conceived was a mystery, even to them. They lived in peace, until one night. The villagers had finally seen through your father’s lies, storming their house. They slaughtered both of them and assuming you were a child taken captive, they whisked you away to a widowed mother. As you grew it was obvious where your origins lay, yet no one in the village dared to lay a hand on you. 

Muzan lets his gaze drop to where your heart pulsed, bouncing the skin of your jugular. “You are human and demon?” Something pulled tight in his chest. Could you walk in the sun? Did you regenerate? Were you the answer to his plight? “You are radiant.” He cannot stop the words from falling past his lips. Your eyes light up with recognition, acceptance, and for a moment your past falls away. He had the ever-growing urge to sweep you away. Your very existence was tantalizing to him in the least. He tilts his head, wrinkling his nose at the obscure way you smelt. 

Your eyes settle on the way he reacts to you, wondering if he’ll take you away someplace. Some place away from these villagers who had slaughtered your parents who just wanted to live in harmony. They did not deserve to die and you did not want to live one more second with their murderers. Muzan wanted to take you, but he couldn’t. Not yet. You were so fragile. If he were to touch you he would fear you would break on the spot. “Are you going to take me away from this place?” You whisper, hopeful tones floating to Muzan. He swallows something deep and thick. 

Muzan backs away from you, eyes tensing. “No.” He replies softly. He could not take you into his den, the other demons were too stupid to realize how precious you were. You would be dead within seconds. The line between your brows hardens again as his words hit you. 

“No? Why not? Am I not good enough for you?” Your voice is rising. You sound like a whining child who hasn’t gotten their way. Muzan winces at the obvious pain seeping into your voice. You were nothing like he’d ever seen before. Something beautiful, a miracle in his eyes. Therefore, he did not answer you. He simply faded back into the shadows. With his disappearance, your hopes and dreams faded as well.

—

The next time you see Muzan is two years later. His hair is shorter than you last saw it, the curls kissing the nape of his neck. This neat look couldn’t contain the loose curls that framed his face. A starched white collar shirt was tucked into an ornate waistcoat. He looked utterly different, yet he was your Muzan. He had the same eyes, the same far-off look, and on top of that, you could practically taste his scent. It was overwhelming, crushing even, but in a way, you enjoyed the rush. 

It was also a fact that you had escaped your village after one of the men tried to see how strong a half-blood was. He told you he was turned on by how revolting you were and he would take you as his wife in duty only. Until then you had never seriously thought about killing a human. The realization was both terrifying and freeing. So you fled to the entertainment district, living off of what you could at the Kyogoku House. There were so many smells here. Food, humans, sex, and demons. 

You worked under a beautiful oiran, and you could tell… she wasn’t human. Part of you wanted to become friends with her, but if she hadn’t reached out for the sake of commonality, you didn’t think there was a chance of any other relationship than servant. 

Muzan’s brows furrowed. He had come to visit Daki and yet your scent prosecuted his brain. Ever since he left you in the forest that day he had been thinking of a way to retrieve you. You were too precious to let out of his sight again. This time he would secure you. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of you living in the Ukiyo. Kyogoku House was well protected, but anywhere without him wasn’t safe for you. Were you being used by men far beneath you? Muzan had never felt such rage toward the thought of men touching a woman. He often indulged in watching, humans were ever so entertaining – but you weren’t human. You were one of his and he swallowed harshly at the fact that you weren’t only his. 

He brushes past some of the lower-ranking courtesans, his eye twitching at their giggles. You watch from afar, the familiarity of his back etching a cold ache into your heart. He would leave again, of that you were sure. You hug the fresh sheets to your chest, making your way to the linen closet down the hall. “Ah, YN, I’ve been looking for you.” The Okaasan Omitsu stands before you. She has a cunning sneer behind the kind smile she wears. 

You bow, storing the sheets away before turning your full attention to her. “Yes Okaasan?” You can smell the evil intent behind this woman, it makes your stomach sink. 

“You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor would you?” She uses the word favor like you’d have a choice. She is the Okaasan after all. It’s like she thinks you’re some stupid girl that will follow whatever she says. Using the word favor is a manipulation tactic and if you were a naive girl, you would be eating out of the palm of her hand. 

You tilt your head to the left, plastering a fake smile of your own onto your lips. You knew anything out of your mouth except ‘yes Okaasan’ would make things harder for yourself. So with all your better judgment pushed aside, you say exactly that. 

Her eyes gleam. “Thank you, my dear. If you will kindly follow me.” She walks back up the hall, toward one of the private Ozashiki rooms. You glance around, nerves settling into your bones. You couldn’t be headed into one of these rooms, you weren’t even a kamuro. You were just an older shinzō. 

She stops in front of the panel, a cruel smile lifting the corners of her mouth. No, please, not this. “You are very blessed my dear, one of our chūsan is interested in you.” She slides the door aside and sitting against a wall smoking a pipe is a middle-aged man. Cushions are scattered around the floor and a twisted smirk plays with his mouth when he sees you. Okaasan bows then slides the door shut behind you. 

The room was stifling, the smoke choking out any of the senses you had. It was dizzying. “Mmm, you’re a lot older than I thought.” The man sneers, setting his pipe down. The fog of opium seemingly wraps around your throat, making it hard to breathe. “But you’ll do.” He laughs, patting the cushion next to him. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” He offers. Your body tenses. You were in danger, of that you were sure. You were not willing to give your virginity up to such a man but if you denied him the right to your own body, there would be outrage. You swallow, tentatively kneeling on the cushion next to him. 

He leans over you, sniffing the area around your shoulder. You stiffen. “You smell so good, better than all those flora bitches.” He growls. “I like your natural…musk.” Oh Gods did this man – who probably has a wife and children – just compliment how you smell when you’ve been working all day? “What do you like about me?” What a loaded question. 

You smile, one that shuts your eyes – if he saw the look in your eyes he’d be sure to know you were lying when you said, “I appreciate your generosity.” You bow your head and the man laughs heartily. 

His tongue darts out to coat his lips. “I can be more generous if you’d like?” He moves himself closer to you. “I was blessed with wealth, good looks, and a tool to make women scream.” Please let the tool be an ice pick so you can lobotomize yourself. “Whad’ya say, darling?” He coos, going in for what appears to be a kiss even though you hadn’t been given the time to answer him. 

You grimace away from his advance, shoving at his chest. The eerie playful tone in the room suddenly seems to vacuum out. The fog is still thick from the burning opium, but you don’t miss the way the man before you lunges for you. He’s panting above you with a charming pointy sneer. “Ah ah ah, not so fast. You haven’t serviced me, whore.” He digs his nails into your shoulder, pinning you to the wooden floor. “Look at you, begging for my cock with your eyes, ooohh you want it that bad you slut?” He hisses, fumbling with the buckle of his Western-style pants. You squirm wildly under his grasp but it’s like he’s infused with superhuman strength. “I’m gonna fuck you and then, as your reward,” His face is next to yours now, eyes glowing an electric yellow, pupils in slits. “I’m going to kill you.” His hand is on your throat, crushing your windpipe. You choke on what little air you were able to breathe earlier. 

A demon, this man was a demon. One of your kind. No… he wasn’t. He was something else. He was driven by the carnal desire to fuck and kill. You were too weak to push him off, your internal forces constantly warring against each other. You had always presented as human, meek, malleable, and obedient. What you would give to have your demon side come forth, bite this fucker’s head off. You want to scream – but on account of his claws sinking into the back of your neck – if you even moved that would surely be the end of your life. 

He tears your yukata to shreds, ripping the soft skin of your stomach open as well. Your mouth opens the pressure of a scream pushing against his hand. Blood mixes with the tattered cloth, the cotton dying red.

Muzan pauses, Daki grumbling about some inferior human drama. His eyes search the room, this time Daki taking notice from her self-indulged rant. Where was that smell coming from? He stands, silencing Daki before she can start whining again. The potent smell of blood was swirling to the top floor, but not just…any blood. “YN,” He hisses, the annoyance, rage, and blood-boiling sensations he felt earlier returning tenfold. Why were you bleeding? This was fresh cut blood, not from the dues women endured every month. He needed to find you, or he feared the worst. “I need to go.” He barely says to the demon next to him. Her face morphs into one of anger, and before she can hurl anything at him, Muzan slips out of her room. Where were you? He follows the pungent scent, clambering down the stairs and rushing down the hall until he’s in front of a private room. He’s sweating, for once fear is humming in his ear. He shoves the door to the side, witnessing a demon hunched over your body. 

Your blood is pooling around you dying the wonderfully blue yukata you wore earlier a sickly brown color. The demon doesn’t have time to look up because Muzan is already crushing its head, slashing its throat to shreds of what it once was. 

The room is covered in blood but the demon is dead. Muzan slides to the floor, cradling you in his lap. “YN, no, no please don’t die.” You were his miracle. You were his hope. If anything could save his damned soul it would be you. His arms are trembling as your stomach bleeds out, the skin marred, and…God the smell of your blood was driving him mad. It was something he shouldn’t be thinking about as you bleed out under him. You needed to regenerate. He wasn’t sure if you could so maybe your demon just needed a little push?

With his free hand, Muzan tears the flesh from his arm, bringing it down to your mouth. His blood trickles onto your lips, sliding into your mouth. After a few silent beats, your eyes shoot open. Muzan has never felt such joy as this very moment. Your arms wrap around his, bringing it into your mouth. Muzan hisses at the way your tongue dances around his wound, lapping up the blood he shed for you. You’re panting, gasping for more. Your eyes glow as you drag your tongue up the muscle of his forearm. His blood flows through you like your own life force, strengthening your nerves, hardening your muscles. He has made you stronger. 

It sends a pinch of desire through Muzan. He hadn’t felt the heat of wanting to sink his cock into the warmth of a cunt in decades. You were mouthing at his arm, wounds healed on both ends, but now that you were moving the once whole yukata falls off your shoulders. Blood trails from your lips down your chest, between your breasts. Muzan was never one to fend off his desire to want. He took whatever he wanted, without a care. He wanted to take you without a care. Fuck you senseless into the floorboards, claw at you, feed on your blood while you fed on his. It was ecstasy just imagining driving his cock into your pretty tight pussy. 

“I should’ve never left you.” He whispers and it sends a rolling wave of want through you. You move to straddle his lap. 

“Then don’t leave me now.” You could both smell it, the heat and arousal in the air. “Take me, my Lord.” He smirks, holding onto your thighs. 

He hums, enjoying the way you’re bare in front of him. You were a sight to behold. “Mmm, such a smart girl.” A portal opens underneath him, the wooden floor sinking into an expanse of rooms, platforms, doors, lights, and endless corridors. The sheer speed whips your hair around your face until – it doesn’t. You’ve stopped in the middle of whatever this place was. “Welcome home,” Muzan’s pink eyes darken to a deep crimson as he sits up straighter, pressing himself into you. You moan in delight as his hands work their way up your hips, sitting you down on the stiff part of his lap. 

You tilt your head, peeking at him. “I’ve never liked pants,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his. He chuckles his smirk growing. 

“And why is that?” He inquires, moving his tongue to lick up the blood that has traveled toward your navel. You choke out a moan as he makes his way between your breasts. You can feel his teeth against your skin and it’s a wretched thought. “Aheh,” He swipes at the crest of your breast. 

“H-hard to get off.” Muzan hums against your skin in agreement, but he’s too preoccupied with the way you tremble with untapped pleasure. 

He wants to tear into your flesh, mark you as his, burn only his name onto your tongue. “Such an eager kitten,” He licks his lips, capturing the back of your neck in his hands. “You want me bare that badly?” All you can manage is a small nod as he gingerly moves you so that you’re laying down. Your hips are still lined up with his as he gazes at you. “I can promise you I have a similar urgency.” He grins, pulling the belt from his breeches with a smooth movement. He tosses it to the side, but doesn’t make any more movements to pull his pants down. Muzan notices your heated gaze pointed toward his hardened groin. 

Did you know nothing about the workings between a man and woman? His eyes trail down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. He wraps his arms around the bend of your knee, smirking when your eyes widen in surprise. He tugs you upwards, to where your legs are over his shoulders. Being this close to your glistening pink cunt made his groin stiffen even more, if that was possible. The smell of you was intoxicating. He couldn’t help himself. “What a fucking view.” He growls. 

Muzan buries his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your swelling clit. You gasp in pleasure, breaths turning into ragged moans as he plunges his tongue deeper into you. “O-oh my God, f’ck, ngh.” With the way his tongue his twisting and sucking inside of you, breathing seemed impossible. His claws dig into your outer thigh, scratching red trails to your knees. He devours every bit of you he can reach, crazed by the tangy sweetness of your arousal. Your walls were squeezing around his tongue, heat running through your body. 

Your own hands find your stiff nipples, rolling them around in your fingers. You couldn’t get enough, it was the same feeling you received from drinking his blood. Heat rolling around in your veins as his eyes take in your puffy cunt and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. He maneuvers one hand from under your knee to the one place that was being ignored on you – your entrance. It was like the gate to a shrine and he wanted to worship there for eternity. “Look at how fucking wet your cunt is.” His pointed nails shape into shorter rounder ones, he dare not damage this holy place. Then, without warning, he presses two fingers into you. A yelp echoes across the void of the infinity castle. “Ahhh, shit,” You huff, tensing from the sensation of your pussy being stretched. 

Muzan knew you were a virgin, he would be lying if the fact didn’t make him grow more feral to have you sit on his cock and take his seed deep within you. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you. That was all he could think about while lapping up your wetness. 

The slick from your cunt was sucking his fingers in, a growl rumbling around your clit. This makes you scream out as a shockwave shoots through you. Your thighs are shaking and every once and a while – as Muzan still selfishly fingers you through your climax, sucking on your clit – your body will twitch. Heavy and heady moans fall from your lips, breaking into whines as you come down from your high. 

“You did such a good job my sweet,” Muzan lowers you gently back to the floor. Your neck is sore from being at an awkward angle for so long, but you would give anything to see the disheveled man before you with your arousal still on his lips. “That’s it. Prefect. You’re so perfect.” He mutters, licking his lips and watching you still play with your nipples. 

Though you feel like you’ve just ascended, you crave more. You want Muzan to breed you like his own personal slut. “M-more,” You gasp. “I feel so empty my Lord.” You huff, the edges of your voice bleeding to a whine. Muzan’s eyes widen. He hadn’t intended to fuck you just yet. Give you some time to grow accustomed to sexual things so it wasn’t rushed, but your eyes are pleading him to continue. He’s… nervous, which isn’t like the demon king. He’s so eager to please you. Make sure you’re comfortable. He wants to give you hell, heaven, and the earth. 

“You’re practically begging me.” He chuckles, unsure if you really knew what you were asking. There was no way that once Muzan slid into your heady cunt that he would not ravish you. There was no way to tell time in the infinity castle, so there was no way for him to know when to stop until he was satisfied. You squirm to get closer to him, spreading your legs wide for him. His gaze drops from yours to your center, whatever shred of humanity that was left in him suddenly flying away. “Such a filthy slut. You’re already hungry for more? You want me to fill you up? Then beg for it.” His eyes narrow into slits, the magma growing in his belly. 

Your body cools with a shiver of excitement, as you reach down in between your thighs. You purse your lips and then spread your labia apart. The cool air tickles the sticky wetness but you can tell it’s doing something for him. “Please, my King, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think. I want you to take my virgin pussy and make it yours.” 

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “As you wish my Queen.” He frees his cock and you have to take a moment to gulp at the sheer size of it. The head is leaking precum and bruised a red color from the lack of release. The shaft is a pale pink, a thick vein running down the underside. The muscles of his hips also catch your attention. They were unlike the drawings some of the courtesans had shown you. His were muscular, ready to thrust into you for hours. 

Muzan lines himself up at your entrance, this time with the head of his cock. The idea was thrilling, finally pushing into your pussy and breaking the barrier of your womanhood. He hisses as your slick coats him, making it easy enough to start entering you. Your face contorts with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Shhh, you can take it.” You want to wiggle away from him, the pain of his member stretching you out is enough to break you. “Ah ah ah, you’re not going anywhere pretty girl. Remember you asked for this.” Muzan leans over you seizing your mouth with his own. You share a leisurely kiss as he swallows your moans. 

He feels the head of his cock hit your hymen and with a wince he thrusts past it. He can feel the rush of silky blood around his cock, but he tries his best to divert your attention with heated kisses. You break free, a long drawn out moan gasping out of you. “Ahhh, oh my, hngh nngh yes!” 

Muzan nuzzles into your neck, the feeling of your walls clenching around him driving him practically insane. “Yeah? Tell me how good I am. Tell me how good I am at fucking you.” He hisses out, desperate for your compliments and approval. 

“Nnnggh, s’good, f’ckin’ me s’good.” You slur, drunk on how he guided a new path into you. You pant and writhe under him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Not yet my love, I want you to watch.” He starts to move his hips and you wince in burning pleasure. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.” He grunts, snapping his hips back into you. The wet slap of skin hitting skin sends shivers down your back. 

You’re straining against the build up in your stomach, a pit of coils wanting to spring forth. “Mmm, harder.” You huff, reach out to grab the back of his neck. He shakes his head, a playful smirk on his swollen lips. 

“Use your manners.” He teases, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Please fuck me harder.” You mewl just as he starts to thrust into you with a quickened rhythm. Your breath is sucked away by the pure bliss aching from the friction. 

Muzan bites down on his lip, brushing a few curls that had come free from behind his ear. “You like it when I do that?” He quizzes, fucking you harder. You can only manage a nod.

Your voice has grown hoarse from moans breaking into screams and whines. You buck your hips along with his as you arch your back, tumbling over your peak. “F’ck, haa haa hnngh,” You squeeze his cock and release his neck, breathless from your second orgasm. 

“Cum all over my cock, fuck,” Muzan growls, the feeling of your slick cum coating his length. He was gliding into you with such ease. He would apologize to you later for this. He pounds into your sensitive cunt, overstimulating you as you cry out. He rams himself into you and stays deep within your pussy. Panting heavily Muzan finally crashes over his own wave of pleasure. Splurting his cum around the walls of your pussy. He doesn’t want to pull out – for one fact he wanted all of his cum to stay within you – and for another fact, you were all the salvation he needed. He could find redemption with you. He rolls you both onto your side, hiking your leg over his hip to make sure he can stay inside of you. 

This was it, you had driven him to the edge and he would make sure to never let anything else touch you. As he gazes upon your soft features drifting off to a satisfied slumber he feels what once was his heart ache. “We should get married.” He blurts out.

[rayroseu]

I really appreciate the beauty of Malleus New Year's card. But most importantly, other than its gorgeousness, I also appreciate how it pays so much homage to his status and character, from the flowers, the clothes, and the setting. 🥹

We know that wisterias were prevalent in his Dorm Groovy SSR, this time its another flower which is the red plum blossom here😭❤️

In Chinese philosophy, the Plum tree’s blossom is a symbol of winter ending and a herald of spring. The tree’s pale pink blossoms are cherished because they bloom vibrantly and so bravely amidst the winter chill. They symbolise perseverance and hope, as well as, beauty thriving in adverse circumstances.

The way this flower's meaning is so matched with Malleus' character is so precious. We know he's "the herald of spring" because his birth brought forth a hope that the Draconias(or the faes in general) won't die out just yet (the ending of winter) and the fact that this flower blooms even in winter probably symbolizes the fact that when he was an egg, he was still perservering to live. This also applies to his life as he grows up. With the way even if his life is riddled with loneliness and exclusion, he makes an effort to go out and adjust himself with others, he doesn't give up even if his reality consistently places him in situation where his goals can never be achieved (that is, him being accepted socially and him being ignorant of human culture but still makes an effort to understand it), he just continues to be hopeful that someone/ some place will invite him, therefore his ability to thrive in adverse circumstances.

The way he slowly rises in this card makes me feel like it symbolizes how slow paced Malleus is "in going out/getting used to outside of his comfort zone", actually lol. He described his admission to NRC as him being nervous because its an unknown place but still hopeful for the experiences that he might get(acccording to the vignette of his GloMas SSR), just like him here rising from the snow and the way he lifts the veil which makes me think he wants to see the world outside of his country's point of view with his own eyes.

Japanese tradition holds that the Plum (or ‘ume’) is celebrated as a protective charm against evil, so the ume is traditionally planted in the northeast of the garden, the direction from which evil is believed to come.

I also read this symbolism which makes me tear up lmaooo 😭Because we know in Book 7, Briarland was invaded from northeast where the Silver Owls originated from 💀 The fact that the plum blossom is a protection flower and he's surrounded with it in this card makes me think that it symbolizes how protected he was during Briarland's era 😭and another thing to dissect from his slow rise from the snow with the fact the plum blossom signifies protection is probably the fact that he took so long to hatch despite many people caring for him.

Side note that in Malleus Bloom Birthday Groovy, it implied that he was born in daytime during a snowfall, and he was happy experiencing the winter, just like in this New Years card where he's smiling against the heavy snowfall 🥹

In Japan, plum blossoms symbolize good fortune, an auspicious flower, along with pine and bamboo, and the arrival of early spring. They are often used as the design for New Year’s greeting cards and other celebratory occasions. (And maybe this is just the likely reason why this flower is here in Malleus' card and I'm overthinking it above lol

Next thing I want to mention is his clothes, that attire reminds me of the formal outfit of a Japanese Emperor (From what I searched, its called sokutai, but what Malleus wears is much more simpler I guess, its a outfit derived from it which is called ikan.) This post is a great overview about these two outfits.

Ikan is the work clothes of nobles and government officials in the Imperial Court after the Heian period. Sokutai is a formal costume for those from the Emperor to the court nobles in and after Heian period (Heian costume). Ikan is called 'tonoi (nighttime) costume', whereas sokutai is called 'hino (daytime) costume'. (which probably references the fact that he's a night fae)

The point is, what Malleus wears in this card is a very traditional garment that only high ranking Japanese officials can wear. But what he wears isn't the clothes of an emperor yet, but just for a high ranking official, which is accurate to his status that he's still a crown prince not yet the king, because only Maleficia truly rules Briar Valley right now.

I love the decision that they made him wear such a prestigious outfit because the story of the New Years event is the characters working on customer service lol Its like his clothes is a reminder that he is still highly distinguished even if temporarily he's a worker.

Lastly the VEIL !!!!!! That's the thing that catched my eyes the most in this card lol I KNOW they're not referencing a wedding here because the veil don't look the same, but its so good not to mention that the one of the headress of a Japanese bride is called tsunokakushi and its description can be related with Malleus a lot lol.

The term is a compound of 角 (tsuno, "horn") + 隠し (kakushi, "hiding"). This derivation is listed in some sources as a reference to hiding a bride's "horns" of anger, jealousy, or other negative qualities, in order to present a more virtuous image for the wedding. However, this interpretation might be a folk etymology resulting from a shift in the reading and meaning.

The headdress and the veil aren't the same thing but I kinda feel like this is the idea they're going for considering the veil is 1) hiding his horns, 2) he's a character associated with being jealous, and most importantly, 3) only the person he is looking at can see his face (which is the point of most wedding veils/headdress, to hide the bride's face so that only her partner can see it).

But long veils, like the one Malleus is holding is also just a garment for a noble to hide their nobility. Which is this is probably the likely reason, considering he's using that veil to cover up his horns and his clothes, the most obvious features of his status.

Also, it could be just a fun reference to the fact that Maleficent in live action wore a long veil to hide her horns so that she wouldn't scare the humans lol

[ladybirdswritings]

SWEET THING, DBF — joel miller x reader.

DESCRIPTION: your life is a storm—an overbearing father, a shitty boyfriend, and the ache of growing up. everything becomes more tangled when you find yourself drawn to your father’s best friend, joel. NOTES - finally, part two. leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

two;

“Put your seatbelt on, Y/N.”

His voice was gruff—tired from overuse, nearly ready to silence entirely. A rich, southern rasp that sent chills down anyone’s spine, yours included. You obeyed without hesitation.

“Thank you for this…” was all you managed in a whisper while locking the metal into place—trapped.

You didn’t know your daddy’s friend too well, but you knew enough. Most people avoided him, whether it was the constant scowl etched on his face or those dark eyes that seemed to scream threats his quiet mouth never voiced. Everything about him made people stiffen, their bodies rigid as old boards.

He only hummed, his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw ticking as he navigated toward the party nearby.

“A left here,” you offered, leaning forward and pointing just past his line of sight.

When he breathed, the scent of honey and jasmine flowers on your skin clung to the air between you. His jaw locked tighter.

You knew you looked every bit the spoiled, overprotected little princess your daddy raised you to be. Skipping Jackson’s town dance to attend some trashy house party hosted by your boyfriend wasn’t exactly subtle rebellion, but you didn’t care.

Where your father insisted on preserving the innocence of your youth, you argued you’d only get to be young once. Only get to date questionable men, drink questionable drinks, and laugh about it later one time in your whole life.

Naive? Sure. But you didn’t know that.

Joel didn’t wait for you to notice he’d parked before snaking a firm arm across the console. His calloused fingers brushed the hem of your denim-clad thigh. Your heart stuttered, your eyes widening as his glare burned into you.

So close.

And then, the seatbelt clicked.

You exhaled shakily, a smile tugging at your lips as you reached for the door. But before you could escape, his rough fingers caught your chin, tugging your face back until you were forced to meet his eyes.

Dark, chocolate eyes.

“You’re real lucky tonight, sweetpea. Now don’t go in there and make me look like a fool to yer’ daddy. You drink responsibly, and you don’t touch a blunt in sight—understand?”

You gulped, cheeks burning tomato red. Wide-eyed and frozen, you nodded. You were nothing more than a fish caught in the hands of a cold fisherman, your pretty face cradled between his calloused palms.

“What, you think I’m stupid? Think I don’t know what’s gonna go on the second you walk that purtie lil’ ass inside?”

His voice was sharp, and you stammered, blinking up at him as your breath hitched. He knew. Of course, he knew. He was young once, too.

“I’ll be responsible, Mr. Miller—sir,” you lied through your teeth, the sweetness in your voice a thin disguise.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and a deep, gravelly laugh escaped him.

“Oh, sure you will, sweetpea.”

Satisfied he’d issued a proper warning, he released you. But before you could scramble away, he added, “Go on and behave, and I might just convince your daddy to let you live a little more often.”

Hope bloomed in your chest like wisteria tangling with your rapid heart. If Joel vouched for you, maybe daddy would ease up.

A plan solidified in your head. All you had to do was be good.

You could do that! Easy, just be good.

Step one? Sweeten him up.

“You’re a peach, Mr. Miller,” you chirped, leaning forward to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

You lingered a moment longer than you should have.

Where Jesse smelled of beer, snow, and fresh spices, Joel smelled of whiskey, cedar, and leather. Of hard work and blood-stained hands.

Joel noticed the pause, and slowly, his head turned. Just an inch closer, and his lips could press right against yours.

The thought made your eyes widen.

What was wrong with you? He was doing you a favor, and here you were imagining how his scowling lips might feel against yours. How his tongue—experienced, confident���might tease the roof of your mouth, trail down your neck…

He peered at you through bourbon lashes.

“That business doesn’t work on me, sweetpea…” he started, freeing a hand so to tuck a stray ringlet of your untamed waves behind your ear. You inhaled sharply.

“You gon’ be good?” His voice was low, a tickling whisper that sent warmth flooding through your body.

“I am,” you promised, your teeth betraying the truth behind your pretty smile.

He nodded once. “Go on, then. I’ll be parked out front. Holler if you need me.”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as you slipped out, your heart racing with every intrusive thought lingering in your head.

Maybe you were ovulating. Or maybe you were a basket case.

You shook your head. Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. Your boyfriend—Jesse.

With that, you slammed the Chevy door and hurried toward the party.

•••

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

As soon as the scent of weed and tequila hit your senses, you grinned. A tiny buzz wouldn’t be too hard to hide from Joel.

One shot here. Another there. You inched closer to Jesse, ready to surprise him.

And you did.

“Y/N!”

There he was, wide-eyed and guilty, his lips swollen from Abby’s kiss.

Tight, toned Abby.

They were tucked in a corner, her lips lazily trailing his throat. The sight made your knees wobble. When Jesse saw you, he jerked away, but the damage was done.

Abby’s hands shot up as though she were innocent, and it took all your strength not to lunge for the bitch.

“Baby—” Jesse started, but your throat tightened, hot tears threatening to spill.

You remembered how he admired your strength back in high school. When you were nerdy and unimportant — only glanced at after the tragic death of your mother. Everyone else pitied you. Jesse was different. He’d whispered sweet words to you after your mother passed, he’d made you less… stuck-up; convinced you that tequila could numb the pain. God, it did.

“Y’know, you’re a real tough girl to show up every day with your head high after everything that’s happened…”

“Sip this— baby. all those thoughts about your mom will go away…” he’d whispered once, tipping vodka onto your tongue. He had lost his mom, too. He knew how to stop the agony.

And now? He was the one causing it.

“Fuck you, Jesse. We’re done,” you snapped, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound strong.

You turned to leave, but Abby’s smug voice stopped you cold.

“Don’t know why you’re so pressed, princess. I dig chicks too. You could’ve joined us.”

You saw red.

Before you knew it, your ringed fist collided with her chiseled jaw.

Gasps echoed as she stumbled back into the crowd, her wide eyes meeting yours. Jesse grabbed your wrists, but you yanked them free.

“Stay the fuck away from me!”

And just like that, you stormed out, leaving the crowd and your dignity behind.

This wasn’t how your night was supposed to go.

But instead of sulking to Joel’s truck, you vowed to drown your sorrows in tequila until the world stopped spinning.

Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you intended to do.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Six

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: smut (I finally wrote it y'all), fluff, *minors! DNI*

To skip this chapter, click this link to go immediately to Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel had no shortage of secret hiding places scattered across Prythian — apartments paid for under alias names, safe houses in towns where everyone minded their own business, hell there was even a residence in the countryside he’d help build with his own two hands. 

But he didn’t bring you to any of those. Those places were either in dangerous territory, tainted by the work he conducted as a Shadowsinger and Spymaster, or touched by the hands of lovers he couldn’t even remember anymore. For you, he wanted someplace new. Someplace special. 

He grinned with excitement, squeezing the flesh of your thigh as he held you close and trekked through the forest.

“Where are we going?” You kissed the curve of his ear, peppering his skin with kisses wherever you could reach. 

“Why are you whispering?”

You shrugged, smiling against his neck as he continued. The mountain woods were silent save for the rustling of cicada wings and the wing beats of owls as they hunted in the night. Moonlight blinked through the foliage, scattering the ground with salt and starshine. 

It was calm here. Peaceful. 

Shadows covered your eyes and flicked away low hanging branches so they wouldn’t snap on your dress or get tangled in your hair. You heard the rustling of the branches whenever they were moved aside and couldn’t help but flush at the shadows’ politeness. 

“Just a little further now.” 

You could hear the anticipation growing in Azriel’s voice. His hands were becoming greedy, slipping beneath your dress when it shifted and leaving molten fingerprints wherever he touched. He shivered when you sighed against his neck, washing his skin with a warm breeze. 

There was a fire burning close by. You could smell the chimney smoke in the air and the fragrant smell of flowers.

You shifted in his arms, prepared for him to let you back down to your feet, but Azriel didn’t let you go, nuzzling his face into the soft skin of your neck as his shadows finally dissipated. 

“Welcome to our new home, my love.” 

You gasped softly—a sound that had Azriel’s tongue darting out to feel your pulse as you caught your breath. 

High in the mountains and deep in the woods, a clearing had been cut out and the ground turned over. Star magnolias lined the edges of the clearing, their white blossoms clinging to their branches like freshly fallen snow. Grass grew soft and unencumbered, the occasional flowering weed adding drops of color onto the rolling, green canvas that brushed against Azriel’s ankles. 

But the cottage… oh, the cottage was a beauty. Cream-white windows bright with firelight peered out from walls made of pale brown stone. Blue curtains hung in the windows like eyelids and an ironwood door made up the cottage’s mouth. The door was nestled between two hanging lamps and they poured their light onto two wicker chairs, a table, and a hanging daybed on the porch. Blue wisteria crawled up the porch columns onto the stone walls, lit up by moonlight until they glowed stronger than the stars in the sky. 

“This… this is ours?” You breathed in disbelief. 

“It’s ours.” 

Azriel made a subtle point of stepping over the threshold with you in his arms before quietly letting you down to your feet. It felt like the right thing to do. 

You walked through the cottage in a daze, the roaring blood in your body momentarily forgotten as you moved through the front room to the living room where a cream-colored sofa with plush blue pillows and two armchairs surrounded a flickering fireplace. A bay window looked out over the front lawn arranged with cushions and a small bookcase so you could read. The adjacent kitchen hummed with quiet energy, and you knew that whatever magic touched the House of Wind and the River House also lived here. 

It was a fairytale cottage come to life, clean and cozy with its cream-colored walls and exposed wood beams. 

There was also a conservatory at the back of the cottage you hadn’t seen from out front and its domed, glass roof reminded you of the Day Court athenaeums — a piece of home away from home. Already plants flourished along the windowsill — courtesy of Elain — and green strings of pearls spilled out of white hanging planters like miniature chandeliers. 

“We’re still in the Night Court,” Azriel explained. His hands drifted up to your shoulders as you stood transfixed in the conservatory. “In the mountains along the western coast ten miles from the Day Court border. I figured it would allow us both to be close to home… and far enough away for some peace and quiet.” 

Since coming to the Night Court — since meeting Azriel — there had hardly been time or space to breathe. The River House and House of Wind bubbled with talk, constantly moving as people came and went more frequently than the tide. 

But here it was just you two. 

You were here… alone.

Rooms remained unexplored in the cottage, but all thought of them flew out the window as you turned in Azriel’s arms and took in his burning, hazel eyes. You flung your arms around his neck, fingernails gently dragging through his hair as you kissed him dizzy.

You stumbled up the staircase, still lip-locked with Azriel groaning against your mouth as the buttons of his shirt were ripped off and trickled to the floor like raindrops. 

“Which one’s the bedroom?” You murmured as you staggered down the hallway. You were vaguely aware of some beautiful portraits hanging along the wall, flashes of blue, black, white, and gold paint expertly melted onto canvas, but admiring them was for another day. You had other, more important, things currently on your mind — like finding a gods-damned bed to fall into. 

You reached the very last door of the hallway before Azriel gasped out, “Here,” and grappled at the door handle, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist like you were at risk of floating away. 

You and Azriel all but fell through the handsome wooden door engraved with some Illyrian markings you couldn’t make out and a large symbol of the sun. 

The fireplace roared to life, spurred on by the Cottage’s magic as Azriel dropped to his knees and started undoing the ties of your shoes. He looked radiant even while on his knees. His wings flared out from his back burning gold and orange as the firelight seeped through the thin, delicate membrane coloring his tan skin even more vibrantly as he looked up at you with hungry reverence. 

Blue velvet ribbons fell to the floor and your shoes came with them. They were the first piece of clothing discarded as Azriel gripped your ankles and began trailing kisses along your calves.

 He threw off his mating crown and it skittered along the floor, disappearing somewhere beneath the dresser. 

His lips moved up to your knees. Then further still. 

“Azriel.” You breathed your mate’s name. 

A four-poster bed took up most of the far wall, bracketed on both sides by wall sconces shaped like roses and mahogany nightstands. Gauzy curtains fluttered in the open windows, allowing inside a cool wind that smelled of petrichor and pine. 

You were never more grateful for a bed and a breeze as Azriel’s head disappeared beneath your dress. 

You gripped the bedpost, soft sighs turning to breathy moans as feather-light brushes of lips over skin turned to hungry, open-mouth kisses along your thighs. No one had ever kissed you like this. 

Azriel’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he groaned. 

No one had ever touched you like this. 

You felt the air move between your legs and gasped. 

You scrambled to bunch your dress in your hands, revealing Azriel’s dark head of hair and his hazel eyes, pupils blown so wide they were nearly black. 

“Where did these come from?” He groaned, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your lacy, dark blue undergarments. 

“Sloane’s,” You said, chest heaving. It was a miracle you could speak at all. 

You’d never been with a male. Hell, you’d never been with anyone. Azriel had been your first for everything that mattered, and he would remain the only one who had you in this way. 

Azriel stilled as if the same thought had passed his mind. A shadow curled around your chin, tilting it down ever so slightly at the same time his eyes drifted up to yours, soft and vulnerable and golden. Your cheeks were flush with color, excitement and anticipation written in every muscle of your body. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he promised.  

You swallowed thickly and nodded, but you didn’t think you’d ever want him to stop. 

Your head hit the bedpost with a dull thud, mouth open and panting as Azriel pushed aside the lace and tasted you. 

You weren’t oblivious to what happened during sex. You were a grown female with access to just about any book on any subject in the entire world. You knew what happened during the frenzy — had been imagining it far too often the last few days— but experiencing it was another thing entirely. 

Every time Azriel moved his tongue — every time he so much as breathed — your hips were jolting, fingers twitching as you buried them in his hair and shoved his face closer. He was strong beneath you, breath and tongue hot and wanting. 

Azriel let out a strangled noise when the first thrust of his tongue had you tugging on his hair. Hard. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut. But Azriel grabbed your hand before you could bury it in the folds of your dress and brought it back to his head. 

“Do it again,” he all but growled and dove back in between your thighs. 

In the beginning, you tried to contain yourself — to drag out this moment that had been ages in the making. You bit down on your lips and stifled your moans in your fist until Azriel’s shadows came to pin your hand to the bedpost. 

But then he slipped his fingers between your folds, pressing and twisting and testing you until he’d sunk in knuckles deep. Then there was no stopping the pressure building between your legs and within your core. 

“Az,” you moaned, hips bucking against him. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his smugness and pride as he brought you to the edge. “Oh… oh gods, Az! Fuck!”

You came around his fingers, thighs clamping down around his head as you shivered and moaned, but he didn’t stop, not even when you began to whine and jerk from the overwhelming feeling. You thought he would stop. 

“Az,” You gasped, tugging at his hair. “Az, stop.” 

Azriel snapped back from your core, eyes glazed over in a drunken haze. His mouth glistened and he swallowed, standing up and sliding his leg between yours so you wouldn’t fall on shaky legs. 

You stared at each other, taking in the sight of flushed cheeks and wet lips and unruly hair. He licked his lips, then slowly wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Was that alright?” He asked seriously. 

You sprang forward, lips colliding with his as you pulled at his jacket. You undid the buttons that closed up the slits beneath his wings and in less than a second Azriel had it pulled off and thrown across the room. The buttons of his shirt were mostly undone, but he didn’t hesitate before ripping it open and scattering the tattered silk across the floor. 

You’d seen Azriel shirtless plenty of times before. It was how he preferred to sleep. And many hours had been spent awake in bed tracing the tattoos that swirled across his chest and shoulders with your eyes and with your hands. Now you traced them with your lips, sucking gently at the hollow of his neck where one of the dark marks curled. 

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed. 

He was much gentler with your dress than with his shirt. There was no tugging or tearing. He simply buried his face between your breasts while loosening the corset ties at the back, then slipped the dress off your shoulders. The dress fell to the floor with a whisper and you stepped out of the pool of silk.

Azriel took a step back and went completely, utterly still. 

You shivered beneath his unflinching gaze, resisting the urge to bring up your arms and hide yourself. It was a knee-jerk reaction, but one that you no longer needed. This was Azriel standing in front of you — beautiful, kind, and loving, Azriel, who already knew things about you more intimate than your body. 

Your lace underthings did little to cover you — a very intentional choice — and you found yourself flushing the longer Azriel went without saying or doing anything. 

Finally, he broke the silence and breathed in awe. “You’re beautiful, Y/n.” 

Emboldened by his words, you crawled onto the bed, holding out your hand for Azriel to join you. He hovered over you as you reached for his belt buckle, undid the buttons of his trousers, and slowly slid them far enough down that Azriel could kick them off. His shadows took his shoes. 

You watched carefully as Azriel leaned you back on the bed and placed his elbows on either side of your head. Every ripple of muscle, every stretch of skin, did not go unnoticed by you. Azriel was your mate and you were desperate for the sight of him. 

You slowly moved your hand between his thighs, experimental strokes setting his lungs ablaze as he groaned. The sound sent a new wave of heat between your legs and confidence through your bones, especially as Azriel fisted the sheets by your head, brows furrowed in concentration. 

Without warning he tore your undergarments off you, exposing every inch of your skin to the cool wind that blew through the windows. Nesta was right — the blue lace did not survive the first night of the frenzy. 

“I’ll… I’ll buy you more.” He promised, leaning down to smother his moans against your lips as you kept stroking him. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You whispered and drew him close to you. So close he could feel the wetness that had gathered below. “I want you to see me, Azriel.” You kissed the corner of his mouth before moving your lips to his ear. “I want you to touch me. All of me.” 

And who was he to deny you? 

His hand took over yours and you gasped when he finally slid inside you. Moans slipped into the open air, interrupting the rumble of storm clouds as they gathered close by. 

Azriel breathed heavily against your lips, right hand moving to reposition your legs so they wrapped around his waist. “Are you alright? Are you in any pain?” 

You shook your head fervently. You’d worried it would hurt the first time, and certainly there was an odd, but not unwelcome, tightness where you and Azriel met, but all you could focus on was the roar of the bond in your chest and the flutter of Azriel’s wings as he buried his face in your neck. 

Inch by delicious inch, Azriel pushed forward, always waiting for your permission to continue until his hips were pressed flush against yours.

You both panted for breath as your bodies molded to fit one another in this new way and Azriel swore there was a faint, otherworldly glow to your eyes as you stared at him and smiled. 

You dragged your nails down his back, reveling in the strangled noise that came from deep in Azriel’s throat. A noise that grew louder when you gave a small roll of your hips, testing the waters and loving the pleasure that shot through you. 

Azriel’s hands flew to your hips, clamping down and stopping your movements as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Az.” You moaned his name and your core tightened around him.

“Don’t move,” Azriel choked out. “Just… just give me a moment.” 

He would never live it down if he came inside you now. 

You lifted your head from the pillow, wide eyes staring down at him as he squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, then he wouldn’t have to deal with your shuddering walls clenching around him as you stifled your giggles. Who would have thought the Shadowsinger would be so easy to bring to the edge? There was a thrill that shot through you as you realized, once again, just how much he loved you — just how much you drove him wild. 

One sharp snap of his hips was all it took for your laughing to turn to whines, hands reaching up and bracing against the headboard. Azriel began slowly, methodically, timing his thrusts to your breathing so he could draw those sweet noises from your lips like music. 

“Mother save me, Y/n,” he groaned, capturing your breast in his mouth and swirling it around his tongue.  

He flung open his side of the bond and you did the same, drowning in dual pleasure as his thrusts sped up. You thought your heart might explode in your chest. 

Azriel kissed his way up to your temple and pressed his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your cheeks as he tangled his fingers in your hair. He wished he was an artist so he could capture the sight of you beneath him. Your flushed cheeks and glowing eyes. The stretch of your neck as you tensed. The hot, fervent press of your breasts against his chest as your back arched off the bed. 

I love you, Azriel. Your words flowed across the bond, carried on waves and waves of pleasure as you jolted up and let out a choked cry. 

That sound. Azriel wanted to hear it every day for the rest of his life. He didn’t stop his thrusts, rolling his hips forward and chasing after his own release as one hand slipped between your bodies. You squirmed beneath him, hips bucking up wildly as he urged you on. 

“I’m here, Y/n. I love you so much. Keep making those noises for me. Please.” Azriel clasped his hand in yours, chanting your name as he felt that coil of pleasure tighten further. 

Illyrian wings are one of the most sensitive areas of the body, evolutionarily adapted to sense even the smallest changes in air pressure and wind speed. The apex of their wings alone contain nearly 3,000 nerve endings. 

Even through the daze of pleasure, you eyed the curve of Azriel’s wings with curiosity. 

Do it. Azriel begged. Please. 

You squeezed your legs around his waist, mind cloudy with pleasure as you dragged your fingers along the membrane just below the talon. 

This time you shattered together, hips slapping and cries of each others’ names spilling out into the night sky for all the stars to hear. Shadows burst forth from Azriel and mixed with the blinding rays of sunlight that exploded from your chest. Together, your magic blew out all the windows in the cottage and sent a roll of thunder so far over the mountains that Rhysand, Feyre, and even Helion felt a disturbance along the border. 

The hand you’d caressed Azriel’s wing with shot upward as you came for the second time in a row, slamming into the headboard and punching a hole through the solid wood. You held onto the ruined headboard as every tense muscle in your body slowly loosened with a twitch, spreading warmth and ecstasy across your skin and through the bond. 

Azriel collapsed onto your chest sweaty and spent. He could hear your heartbeat within your ribs running faster than a jackrabbit. You breathed heavily, blinking the fog from your eyes as you stared up at the ceiling. 

You brought your hands to Azriel’s back, holding him tight as you gathered your breath and tried to calm your racing heart lest it decide to fly out of your ribcage. 

“Did you…did you just break the headboard?” Azriel breathed out after some time had passed and neither of you were trembling anymore. 

“......No.”  

Azriel peered up first at you, and then the fist-shaped hole in the maple bed frame. He burst out laughing. The noise was brighter than sunlight and you couldn’t help but join in. 

“Are you hurt?” He grinned. 

You shook your head. Laughter spilled out of your lips so brilliantly they were more gasps for air than anything else. He kissed your knuckles, smooth and unharmed. Then, he attacked your neck, leaving gentle bites that tickled as you squirmed and sighed. 

“Shall we try and break the bed again?” Azriel offered, still smiling. 

“I think we can do more than try.” You grinned mischievously. You rolled over top of Azriel, tracing the smooth skin of his chest before bracing your hands over his heart. 

And so the frenzy began. 

6 weeks later

You leaned forward, chest pressing against Azriel’s as you gave him a drowsy, content smile. Steam coated the bathroom mirror in a film and condensed on the bottles you’d carefully arranged alongside the bathtub. One of the bottles was empty. It had taken that much to fill the Illyrian-sized tub until you and Azriel were both comfortably submerged in bubbles that smelled of sea salt and lavender. A platter of food — courtesy of the Cottage — gleamed on the low-rise table beside you, cheese, nuts, and cuts of meat half-eaten. 

Azriel tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in honey, and placed it on your tongue. He tilted his head back in thought. “The first floor bath?” He suggested. 

“The first floor has a bath?” 

Azriel smiled and you heard the scratching of pen on parchment as his shadows wrote down the room. 

Just this morning Rhysand had gently knocked on the doors of your mind, asking if you and Azriel would ever come back home to Velaris or if they should consider themselves abandoned. The prospect of hiding away in the Cottage forever was tempting, but you and Azriel had agreed on a flexible deadline — you’d both return to Velaris once you had… hmmmm, marked each room of the Cottage. 

“We haven’t done it outside.” You offered, looking out the window. The mid-afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky, rendering even the birds and insects drowsy. 

“We agreed the porch counts, remember?”

“Since when?” You sat up straight, water sloshing around your waist. 

“Since the last time we slept there two weeks ago.” 

You rolled your hips down, resting your head on his shoulder and peering up with a look that would have put him on his knees if he wasn’t already on his back. 

“We’ll add it to the list.” Azriel breathed out tightly. 

There was more scratching of pen on paper. 

You decided that of all the rooms in the cottage, you liked the conservatory the best. When Azriel was making those beautiful noises against you, arms wrapped around your back and pressing you into the floor, you could watch the stars as they moved in the sky and drew close to the Shadowsinger. When it rained you could feel the electricity splinter through the sky, almost in tune with your body. 

Azriel was partial to the library in the second floor’s west wing. You’d spent days there propped up on every wall and bent over every piece of furniture until you could name over a dozen species of wood. 

You blushed just to think about it as you sank beneath the bath bubbles. 

Azriel sat in a chair beside the tub, damp hair curling over his forehead as he read aloud from a book you’d stumbled upon during your… activities. 

The frenzy had finally burned its way through your system, leaving you sore in places you didn’t know possible. It had taken you and Azriel two days just to sleep off the exhaustion, tangled up in bedsheets heavy with your scent. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar. Azriel wordlessly kissed your temple, slipping his hand into your hair and dragging his nails along your scalp until you were sighing in contentment. 

This… this felt right. You wanted Azriel to know that he was everything. He was the wash of color over the world that makes things bright and safe. He was the only person you felt perfectly at home with. Someone to trust with your body and heart as much as your mind. Someone whose touch you could never dream of shying away from ever again. 

I know, my Y/n. Hazel eyes met yours, warm and soft. And you must know that you are everything to me as well. 

Everything? You smiled softly at him.

Everything. He replied.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

*insert meme* Why is it spicy?

This was my first try writing anything explicit so... hope you enjoyed it! Only took us half a year and 100k+ words to get to a spicy scene LOL

^^ this has been both my reaction, and Y/n's reaction

As always, I appreciate you immensely for reading and would love feedback/to hear what you guys think! We're nearing the end folks!

[drarryspecificrecs]

2025.02 ~ Top 9 longest fics posted on AO3

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—

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—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

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[kurokawaia]

❛ CLOSING THE DISTANCE ❜

Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no warnings, giyuu kills a demon infront of us, reader is his wife, giyuu is distant + more?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Heyy, i was wondering if you could write a request with tomioka giyuu and reader where they are married/dating but hes really distant with her. One night she gets attacked either by a demon or someone breaking in 🤷‍♀️ and he saves her and like after that its all yours. ❤️❤️❤️ - @toastytoes0

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Giyuu was never really the talkative type, even when the two of you had finally gotten together, and then married, he was still the reserved, few-word type, and his words still both carried an obvious sense of retraction.

He used to converse with you more often when the two of you were just in your girlfriend and boyfriend stage, but now, he's fully withdrawn, barely speaking to you, his wife, who waits for him patiently for him every night. 

Not to say he didn't care-you knew that much, he did in his own little ways. 

On missions, he would disappear from your shared house and return with even fewer words. His eyes were always clouded by something which not even you could figure out.

When you were catering to his injuries, only a few words came from his mouth at best, other than that, it was just soft hisses slipping from his mouth due to the disinfectant.  You reached for him, over and over, you and him, but so often it was as if you just wasn't quite in reach. The nights had been the most difficult. He'd lie beside you, his body would be quite stiff which made you always have a welling guilt bubble up in you as if you did something wrong. But, it was as if he were afraid that even in his sleep he might accidentally draw too close. Giyuu had left earlier that day for a mission and was not expected to return until morning. You were used to being alone, but that night felt off. There was a something hanging in the air, an apparent aura of danger that you couldn't shake.

You were okay. There is wisteria incense burning outside, so you're okay. You shook off the eeirer feeling, deciding to busy yourself with tasks that would take your mind off the sensation. However, no matter how much you busied yourself, that feeling of worry continued to grow stronger in your gut.

A deep and shaky breath leaves your mouth as you calm yourself down. YOu then continued with busying yourself. But then, you found yourself looking out the window, watching as the shadows got longer due to the moon.

That feeling of being watched never left.

You decided to retire to bed, praying that sleep would take you first before anxiety could really set in. As you lay out your shared futon, and snuggle into the sheets, pulling the blanket up to your nose you found yourself unable to sleep, the pounding of your heart was too loud to sleep. And so, midnight came, and your heart wasn't slowing down.

Well into midnight, you heard it, and that's a shaky, quiet gasp that slips past your mouth due to the soft creaking of a floorboard and the gentle rustle of movement. Freezing, your heart pounded inside the chest. Someone-or something-was inside the house. You had barely time to react when, with a burst of speed, your bedroom door swung open, a huge, dark figure filled the doorway, while its silhouette was poorly outlined by the faint moonlight that filtered through the window. Your body instinctively curled up while the figure moved towards you. But before the figure could get any closer, a blur of movement shot through the room. A clanging sound of metal to metal echoed within the small room, followed by an anguished grunt. You look up in time and see Giyuu- Quickly, his blade cutting through the demon. It was over in a matter of seconds. The figure slumped to the ground, dead, and Giyuu stood over them, as they disintegrated into the air. For several moments, neither of you budged. Then suddenly, as if snapped out of his trance, Giyuu turned to you, his eyes wide with guilt. Letting his sword fall to the ground, he whirled himself up to his feet and ran toward your side. The clatter of his sword against the floor sent an echo through the room. Are you hurt?" His voice was rough.

He reached out, his hands trembling over where to touch you. You shook your head wordlessly. The shock from the attack and suddenly seeing your generally distant husband was too much to absorb all at once, and you found yourself reduced to staring up at him, brimming with tears. Giyuu's face softened at the sight of you, his hand finally coming up to rest against your cheek. The warmth touching you sent a shiver running down your back, you leaned into the touch, desperate for any comfort you could recieve. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice breaking, "I'm so sorry. You'd blinked. Giyuu had never apologized much less voice himself so candidly. "Why?" you croaked out, voice shaking. "Why have you been so distant? Giyuu's hand on your cheek had tightened slightly, his thumb stroked the tear that had escaped your eye. "I... I thought it was for the best. I did not want to hurt you one day, that I have been killed on a mission, and never returned to you. I thought it was best to distance myself, so that maybe if that did happen, it would hurt you less." You shook your head, a sob escaping your lips. "But you're my husband Giyuu, and I want to share that burden with you, be there for you, no matter how dark it will be.

"In a way," he whispered, so low. "I was afraid-afraid that if I did, I'd lose you." You reached out with your free hand and gently touched his, your fingers intertwining with his. "You won't lose me," you promised, trying to keep your voice steady when it was still quivering from the falling tears. "But you will if you keep pushing me away." He pulled you close to him, clasping you tightly against his chest, as if he really did fear you would disappear should he let go. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent as you let yourself finally relax in the circle of his arms.

He hugged you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and in this moment, you knew things would go differently from here on out. Giyuu leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, his lips staying there.

"I'll protect you," he whispered low. "I'll always protect you."

And for the first time, you did believe him.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list| demon slayer m.list

[whispersoftheton]

hey! may I request some wedding day fluff/smut?? 🤭

HI MY LOVE <3 Thank you so so much for requesting & I apologize for taking so long with this one but I hope you like it!

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut: oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering

Word Count: 763

Wisteria and Lilacs adorned the entryways and every staircase of Aubrey Hall. Where guests once overflowed the corridors with endless drinks and food, now silence in its place. The positively exquisite wedding dress from the modiste was now replaced with a delicate nightgown tailored to perfection. Stars adorned the night sky, each twinkle gleaming down upon the balcony of the lavish home. Tranquility became you as you overlooked the gardens just outside your bedroom. The joyous celebration that was your wedding day may have come to an end, but the night brought an entirely new thrill. Distant footsteps echoed in the room, returning you to reality and away from your train of thought as your husband approached from behind you. Firm hands anchored at the base of your hips, making you instinctively lean back onto his chest. He kissed your shoulder and the tender skin of your neck, lulling you deeper into his embrace.

"Mhm." Anthony sighed while tracing your bare skin with his fingertips. "Now, just how did I get so lucky?" A grin spreads on your face, goosebumps rising with every pass of his touch as you turn around in his hold. His lips instantly molded to yours, moving in sync with one another, the hunger and anticipation growing with every swipe of his tongue. Anthony's grip tightened, pulling you flush against his body until there was not an ounce of space between you. His mouth worked its way from your lips and along your neckline, paving the way toward your chest. Taking his time to taste every inch of you he could. Anthony wasted no time in tearing down your nightgown to reveal yourself to him and teasing a nipple with his tongue, then moving to the other. Every movement was as if he was taking his time to worship your body. Your eyes screwed shut, and your head tilted back, giving him more access before you felt his lips leave you entirely. Your skin grew cold without the warmth of his lips as your eyes widened at the sight before you. Anthony was already on his knees, his hands feverishly lifting your nightgown, your delicate lace underwear already soaked, driving him mad with want.

"Anthony, please. I want you." You attempted to draw him back up to your lips, but it was of no use. His gaze darkened as it set on your core.

"And you'll have me. But I must taste you first." He began removing the remaining barriers of clothing. Now bare before him, Anthony hooked one of your legs around his shoulder and caressed your inner thighs. His eager tongue traced your slit, making you arch your back toward him. It wasn't long before his fingers dug into the outer flesh of your thighs as he devoured you like a man starved. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he took your clit into the warmth of his mouth while teasing you with his tongue. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs. Your breath caught when Anthony plunged one of his fingers into your dripping core. Never pulling his lips away, he added a second and eventually a third finger, stretching you further, curling them inside you. Anthony was insatiable, consuming you as if you were his last meal on earth. Your eyes filled with tears, struggling to hold back the lewd moans threatening to escape you as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

Unable to restrain yourself any longer, your hands tangled in his hair as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Your hips bucked, and moans echoed off the empty hallways, shuddering under him as your vision went white from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. Anthony drank up every bit you were willing to give him as he worked you through your orgasm. Reveling in your pleasure as if it was his own before rising back to his feet.

"Now." You were pliant in his arms as he accentuated every word with a kiss on your neck. "I plan to have pleasure overtake you at least twice more before I can properly have you. I simply cannot have my wife anything less than satisfied on our wedding night."

"I assure you I am more than satisfied." Your breathy reply and blissed-out look were more than enough to bring a cocky smirk to his handsome face.

"We have a long night ahead of us, my love." Anthony took your hand and led you into the bedroom of the main hallways, with your laughter filling the air between you.

Mini Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @thethreeeyed-raven @ssprayberrythings @fatbottomedvirgo @fictional-hooman (let me know if you would like to added by leaving a comment here or dm me if you’d like to be added.removed)

I DO NOT HAVE WATTPAD. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x GN reader

Sleepy / Wish

A double feature fic This came out slightly more angsty than I originally intended but honestly I'm not mad

-Enjoy (with a little mood music)

The music swelled as you rested your head on Shadow's shoulder, the living room was entirely dark the only source of light was the television which omitted a soft glow illuminating the two of you in a pale blue light.

You stopped paying attention to the movie ages ago, you had been busy all day and the exhaustion was finally catching up to you. You felt your limbs grow heavy, your eyelids becoming more impossible to keep open by the second.

"Do you need to go to bed?" Shadow asked sensing your growing tiredness.

"No, there's only twenty minutes of the movie left I can make it."

You did not.

Shadow picked you up from the couch, thankful that you decided to put on your pajamas before the movie started. He carried you into your shared bedroom and gently placed you on the bed before removing your gloves and placing them on your nightstand.

He pulled the blankets around you tucking you in before placing a kiss between your ears.

The sound of your gentle snoring serenading him as he got himself ready for bed. You were embarrassed about the fact that you snored he found it comforting a sweet reminder that you were still here, still alive on the nights where his nightmares would jolt him awake before you could comfort him.

He memorized your snore knowing that one day he would never be able to hear it again. But he would remember it and remember you for all your perfections, all your flaws, all the times you would drive him crazy, and the times you would comfort him. He loved you all of you and nothing could ever change that.

Shadow climbed into bed wrapping his arms around you pulling you into a sweet embrace.

"good night Y/N I love you so damn much." He whispered before drifting off to sleep.

✨

The stars were shining brilliantly in the night sky. A soft breeze blew the wisteria branches filling the air with the sweet aroma of the flower.

You were watching the stars intensely waiting for the meteor shower to begin. A blanket lovingly draped over your shoulders by your partner fought off the chill of the nighttime.

Shadow refused to wear his blanket insisting he was fine, you knew he was just trying to stay awake, he had been up for awhile his mission took longer than expected meaning he had to skip taking a nap before your date. he refused to miss your date despite your protests. He already had trouble sleeping he shouldn't deprive himself more then he has to, but try telling that to the ultimate lifeform.

"You can take a nap sweetheart, the meteor shower isn't supposed to start for another hour."

"No, I want to watch this with you."

"I'll wake you up I promise. I know how you can get when you're tired you should rest please, for me."

You gave Shadow the biggest puppy eyes you could muster.

"fine. But wake me up when you see the first one got it."

"got it."

He laid down resting his head on your lap your hand reached down stroking his quills humming a lullaby. Within a few minutes shadow had drifted off to sleep, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, like all his problems didn't exist like all the pain he's been through had gone away. You wish you could take all the pain away or at least prevent More from happening.

You knew that he was immortal and that one day he would lose you. you hated the thought of leaving him like that knowing that he would have to live his life moving on from all the people he cared about.

You wished that you were immortal too so that you could be there with him through it all. that he wouldn't have to go through time alone. You would never tell Shadow that, he would scold you telling you that it was a bad idea and that you shouldn't have to live like that with him.

So you kept that wish to yourself. Every birthday candle, every shooting star you wished upon you wished for the same thing hoping that one day fate would smile upon you granting your wish so that shadow could finally get the happy ending he deserved. It was a longshot but who knows, stranger things have happened.

You looked down smiling at the slumbering black hedgehog who stole your heart wrapping him up in his blanket and kissing his cheek.

You continued stroking his head as you looked back up at the sky. Watching for the first shooting star to signal your partner back to the waking world and watch the night that was beautifully gifted to the both of you.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

hi! can you do headcanons of muzan x male reader headcanons where reader is very strong and loyal to muzan and is 500+ years in demon age? also can they have wisteria demon blood art that they themselves are immune to but it kills both humans and demons if it gets in they’re eyes/nose/ears. the hashira’s a wary of reader because they can go past the wisteria trees and they don’t know how this blood art is possible in the first place. i feel muzan would love how overpowered reader is but also a bit wary of his loved one because of it.

(uh this is kinda long but i think it’s an interesting topic and i haven’t seen anyone else do this 😅)

(Hey Anon! No worries this isn’t long at all, I hope you enjoy these headcannons (despite these hcs being short ;-;) and have a great day!)

Muzan with a Powerful and Loyal Male! S/O

(Warning: Nothing nothing)

- You have his respect.

- He watched you grow stronger and stronger as a demon over hundreds of years and absolutely loves how strong you’ve gotten. Though he loves you way too much to absorb your body and take your abilities.

- You shocked the hell out of him when he found out that you were actually able to withstand wisteria.

- Also your loyalty to him makes him very pleased. You’ll always be his favorite demon.

- He enjoys the fear and wariness that you instill in the Hashira. He often praises you for this.

- Since you are able to go through wisteria trees, Muzan decides to send you on a mission to kill the master of the mansion, his wife, and all of his children.

Masterlist

[0xochitlsketches0]

They want crackers

[lanawrx]

Imagining a peaceful life with Zenitsu, Tanjiro, Inosuke

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

Zenitsu

On a rare day off with no missions to worry about, you and Zenitsu found yourselves sitting under the shade of a large cherry blossom tree. The pink petals gently drifted down around you, adding a touch of serenity to the peaceful afternoon.

With the world temporarily free of disruptions, you both took a moment to simply enjoy each other's company, a luxury that felt almost foreign in these troubled times.

As you leaned against Zenitsu, your head resting on his shoulder, he sighed deeply, a mix of contentment and lingering worry. “I wish every day could be like this,” he murmured, his voice soft. “But... I can’t help thinking about Muzan Kibutsuji. What if we never manage to defeat him?”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, looking up into his warm, yet troubled eyes. “We will, Zenitsu. We have to believe in that.”

He nodded, though a flicker of doubt remained in his gaze. “I try to imagine it, you know? A life without demons, without fear. But even if I can’t see it clearly... I want it so badly. And when that day comes,” he paused, a blush creeping up his cheeks, “I’ll make you my wife. We’ll start a family, and I’ll protect you every day for the rest of my life.”

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, the sincerity in his voice touching you deeply. The thought of a peaceful life with Zenitsu, of building a future together free from the horrors of the past, was a dream you both clung to.

“Just think,” you said, a smile spreading across your face, “we could have a little house in the countryside, with a garden and maybe even some animals. And we could raise our children in a world where they never have to worry about demons.”

Zenitsu’s face lit up at the idea, and for a moment, the doubt seemed to melt away. “That sounds perfect. I’d do anything to make that happen."

You smiled softly and leaned up to press a kiss against his cheek. "Me too, my love."

Tanjiro

You and Tanjiro rested at the wisteria family residence after a grueling mission, the calmness of the night settled around you. Nezuko slept peacefully beside you, her soft breaths the only sound in the room. The wisteria flowers outside the window swayed gently in the breeze, their sweet scent mixing with the quiet of the night.

The two of you finally had a moment alone, a rare respite in your dangerous lives. He smiled at you, his kind eyes filled with warmth.

“After we defeat Kibutsuji,” he began softly, as if the thought itself was a fragile hope, “I want us to live peacefully, without fear. I want ...to make you my wife. And we can live together, raise a family together.”

His words filled you with a deep sense of joy and comfort, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “How many kids do you want?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb Nezuko.

Tanjiro's eyes lit up, his thoughts drifting to his own upbringing. “I’d love a big family,” he said, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. “Growing up with so many siblings, there was always love and warmth, even in the hardest times. I want that for us too—a home filled with laughter and love.”

You giggled at the thought of your home bustling with the energy of so many children. "That sounds wonderful, Tanjiro. I can already picture it—our own little haven." Your eyes softened and warmth flooded your cheeks. "You'd be an amazing father."

Tanjiro's smile widened at your words, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. “And you’d be an incredible mother,” he said, his voice full of admiration. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing motion. The warmth of his touch sent a comforting wave through you, grounding you in this serene moment together.

Inosuke

You and Inosuke had been pushing yourselves hard in the yard of the Butterfly Mansion, training with an intensity that seemed to match his boundless energy. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the training grounds, and you could feel every muscle in your body protesting after hours of relentless drills.

You decided it was time for a break, collapsing onto the grass with a sigh of relief. Inosuke, ever the rowdy and determined fighter, watched you with a mix of frustration and admiration. “You can’t just stop now!” he grumbled, his usual fierce demeanor softening slightly as he plopped down next to you. “We’re not done yet! There’s still weaklings out there that need to be taken down!”

You chuckled, feeling a bit of the tension melt away as you looked at him. “Inosuke, we’ve been at this all day. Even the strongest fighter needs a break.”

He huffed, crossing his arms with a stubborn scowl. “I’m strong enough to keep going! I don’t need a break. But… I guess I can sit here for a little while. Not like I’m tired or anything.”

As he settled down beside you, he eyed the food you’d brought along, his eyes lighting up at the sight of it. “You brought food? You’re the best!” He grabbed a piece, shoveling it into his mouth with enthusiasm. “After we beat all the demons, we’re gonna eat so much! And then we’ll take down every weakling that stands in our way! That’s our future, right?”

You laughed softly, enjoying the moment of peace and the way Inosuke’s rough edges softened in these quiet times. “That sounds like a great plan, Inosuke. We’ll enjoy our victories and the food, and we’ll make sure to rest when we need to.”

He nodded, his usual bravado returning even as he savored the meal. “Yeah! And you’ll always be right here with me, pushing me to get better, right? I’m gonna keep getting stronger, and we’ll make sure everyone knows how great we are!”

With a smile, you reached out and patted his shoulder. “Of course. We’ll do it all together. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even figure out what it means to have a family someday.”

Inosuke’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a rare hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “Family… I’m not sure what that means, but as long as you’re with me, I think I’ll figure it out.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment. “We’ll figure it out together. For now, let’s just enjoy this break and think about all the good things to come.”

Inosuke grinned, squeezing your hand. “Yeah! We’re gonna make the best future ever. Just you wait!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡ Thanks for Reading! ˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

[starredblood]

CHIHIRO

PART THREE

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re tired of being kept in the dark about your lost memories and finally, you’re getting some form of answers.

wc. 5.2k

warnings: bullying, cigarette use | authors note: this is not proof read so you already know what to do. also this is a mini series so it’s more fast paced than my previous fic hint hint.

(chihiro masterlist)

(summer, 2021)

It was only a year. You only lost over a year worth of your life but you couldn’t help but feel like your entire identity has been stripped away. Who are you anymore?

You’re a librarian who likes to help people—that was always the goal. But the doubts looming your head is making you question if you’re even cut out to be one anymore. You used to have a sharp mind and were able to think on your feet, but things changed. It’s only a matter of time before your boss grows tired of your incompetence around here before laying you off. Dasom is already putting in most of the work for you and boasts about it.

You were currently sitting in your desk, your elbow propped on the table with your chin resting on your palm just jotting down lists. Cheol sat across from you, reading silently and often would gasp at whatever caught his attention in his book. Ever since summer started, he’s been coming here more often as an escape surely. He told you about his life in the orphanage, how he feels ostracized from his peers because of his North Korean status. But no one judges him here. He reminds you of a little you in that sense—the need to find an escape.

At some point, his little eyes began to strain from all the reading, so he exhales and puts down his book. Then he noticed how you kept writing down the same words: Azalea, fox glove, oleander, wisteria, lily of the valley, belladonna, and hemlock. Over and over again.

“Noona, why are you writing these words so much?” he asks curiously, pointing at all the words.

“It helps me with my memory.” you answer simply while continuing to write.

“Oh…” he trails off. He open and closes his mouth like he was being extra cautious trying to find the right thing to say. “W…What happened?”

You pause writing midway and look at him. Not even talking about it to Cheol makes it any easier for you. “I got into an accident and it made me lose some of my memories.“ you explain. You can’t even force a smile for him.

He purses his lips, places his hands on top of the table and starts fiddling with the edges of his book. “Will they come back?” he says in a more timid tone.

“Mmm,” you hum. It was hard to prevent your stomach from churning. “the doctor said it’s unlikely. So, probably not—but it’s okay.”

“It’s okay?”

“Yeah, now it means I get to cherish life even more.” you say. But you know you can’t live up to those words so easily.

“You’re always so optim…optimistic.” he corrects and smiles proudly at himself.

You snort at the triumphant look on his face and reach over to ruffle his hair. “You’re so smart, Cheol. Where do you get it from?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Probably my mom.”

Your breath hitches. It’s so easy to forget that such a lively and driven boy like Cheol comes from a rough background. At least it’s comforting to know he has his sister. Speaking of—

“Speaking of family,” you start off, slightly nervous. “is your sister okay? I haven’t seen her in the library recently.”

“She’s always busy. She saw me only one time last week but…she looked tired. I mean—well, she always does, I guess. But when I saw her she looked more tired than normal.” he rambles.

You were unaware of the pink tint forming on your cheeks when you thought back about Sae-byeok. Since the incident back in June, she hasn’t been showing face in the library anymore and her return books are way overdue. Now it’s beginning of July and still, the only fragments of information you could get is from Cheol who is also being kept in the dark.

It’s hard to get that day out of your head. She was so gentle and soft spoken, it was only natural for you to suspect that you knew her before you lost your memories. Someone as isolated and guarded as her would never do that for anyone she just met. But when you confronted her, she just left. She iced you out and you don’t know what do to. Go look for her? But where? She’s an enigma—she could be anywhere.

And you thought about asking Cheol. Maybe he knew you too and is pretending just like she is but you don’t want to drag him into your mess. So, for now, you’ll have to play out the life the Kang siblings had in mind for you.

“Well, make her proud by finishing this book.” you tell him with a little more enthusiasm.

He straightens his posture and opens up his book again, looking determined. “I will.”

You saw her everywhere and for a reason. But the reason remains unclear.

The best part of working the morning shift is getting to leave before the sun sets. When Cheol is long gone and you completed your task for the day, you stuff your current read into your bag and get ready to walk home.

When you shut your locker and whirled around, two hands pressed against your chest slamming the back of your body against the hard metal lockers. You wince at the harsh impact and open your eyes to be greeted by Dasom’s frightening eyes that kept darkening by the second.

“You told her.” she growls lowly, her eyes narrowing when you tried pushing her off. But her grip only got tighter. “What did I tell you about telling your friend, huh?”

“I didn’t tell her anything.” you huff, still grasping onto her wrist to try and push her off. “Aren’t you a little too old to be doing all this?”

“She fucking threatened me again.” she says, ignoring what you said. “Tell her that whatever proof she has on us to turn it back in or—or you might as well pack your things right now.”

“Proof?” you query and for a moment, her eyes widen. There are rumors circling around about Dasom’s family committing charity fraud and phishing. It would explain why the library isn’t getting as much resources as they’re supposed to. But how would Sae-byeok even find out about this? “Let me go, Dasom and I’ll think about forgetting what you just exposed to me.” you grit through your teeth.

Her nostrils flare up and exhales through them. She slowly starts unraveling her fingers from gripping onto your top. You watch her carefully when she walks backwards.

“And you owe me a pair of sunglasses.” you snip and march out of the breakroom.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

The sound of water rushing out of a spout could be heard as you unlocked the door to your apartment. That could only mean one thing, your mom somehow found a way to get into your apartment.

“Mom, are you serious?” you whine, seeing her wipe down the kitchen counter with a wet cloth. The second you step inside, your cat appeared from under the couch and nestled around your foot. “I thought I changed the pin code.” you murmur so she wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t get why you adopted a cat, honey…” she places her hands on her hips and sighs at the cat caressing you.

Is there ever a time she’s ever approved of your living conditions? You remember how often she invited herself into your apartment and ‘fixed’ your place. But you just use that as an excuse for her not to be alone in the house.

“Look at you right now—how can you take care of a cat when you look so tired. Did you take your medications?”

“Yes.” you whine and start inspecting every nook and cranny of your kitchen and see how much she’s flipped around. “Did you organize my cupboards?”

“And cleaned that poor kitten’s litter box.” she adds.

“I was going to do that today.” you grumble and roll your eyes.

You’re too tired to verbally complain further so you just make your way over to your bedroom. Your cat, which you named Sen, follows you inside—clearly not fond of your mom. She hops on the bed and observes you curiously.

You put toss bag aside and start examining your room. Your mom came in and made your bed, folded your laundry and arranged your bookshelf however you feel like something is missing. Particularly with the bookshelf, it feels like something is missing.

A basket. There was a basket on top of the shelf and it’s not there anymore. You furrow your eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember if you had anything valuable but nothing comes up. Maybe you’re being paranoid.

Sen, bored of sitting on your mattress, leaps to your study desk and starts dusting the table with her tail unknowingly. But there was a particular spot on the table that you could’ve sworn had a picture frame before your accident. And when Sen walks past it, the spot was empty.

Your breathing stops and you slip out the room to find your mom. This was no coincidence. But you couldn’t outright confront her, you know her too well. So, you take a deep breath so you wouldn’t talk irrationally.

“Mom…” you say carefully and lean back on the kitchen counter.

“Yes?” she says, too focused on wiping off bread crumbs to see the visible distress in your eyes.

“Did I get close to anyone last year? Did I make a friend maybe?”

“Not that I recall.” she says. You know it’s a lie, you just know it. “Why?”

“I just have this gut feeling—“

“You and your gut feelings.” she signs in disappointment. Still, she isn’t daring to look up at you like she was concealing something. “Trust your brain—knowledge will get you far.”

“I know it’s just—“

“Knowledge.” she says sternly. “How’s your arm doing?”

“Better. Fully functional.” you grumble.

Her habit of steering the topic is a clear indication to something. You just want to know why she did it and what you lost.

She puts away the cloth and reaches over to pinch your cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re doing good for yourself.”

You bite your lower lip, contemplating if you should really go there with her. It’ll not be an easy conversation—it might go messy but you can’t live in the dark anymore. It’s driving you insane.

“Mom.” you say leisurely and trail behind her like Sen was to you. When she sits down on the couch you stand in front of her to block the television screen. “I know you hid something from me while I was staying at home.”

Her forehead puckers with visible wrinkles. “I’m sorry sweetie I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing—“

This was becoming more frustrating. She’s just too difficult—and you’re starting to become desperate. Not knowing anything is killing you. First, with Sae-byeok now your own mother. “I deserve the right to know it’s my life and you can’t just meddle with it!” you cry.

“Don’t talk to your mother that way.” she warns, her shoulders tensing up.

“I’m so confused about everything and you’re just making it worse by trying to scrape the evidence of my life I—I feel so lost!”

She gets up from the couch to cup your cheeks to prevent you from pacing back and forth as you began to ramble off. “You’re not lost sweetie I’m right here.” she assures you softly.

“I am! I’m so fucking lost—!”

“Language.”

You scoff and drop her hands. “I don’t even know the way to my own home anymore! And you’re making it worse by coming in and rearranging everything!”

Her worried expression turns into one filled with pain. You know she cares, but it’s the way she goes about it that makes you so upset. “I’m—I’m sorry.“ she mutters.

You swallow back the urge to cry. Now was not the time, you need to relax. “…I’m just so frustrated all the time. I feel like I’ve am getting kept in the dark I just…”

“Do you want to know? Do you really want to?” she snips and sits down to run her fingers through her hair. Your intense silence and crossed arms was her response. “I thought that—I assumed that you would be better off if you didn’t know about the memories you lost. So, I got rid of anything that might’ve been from last year—“

“Mom!” you gape in disbelief.

“I thought that if you knew it would only make you more frustrated! I know I failed to protect you but this is just—this isn’t in any parenting books! I did it to give you an easier time adjusting to your new life!”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your mom, your belongings gone, and the fucking headache that was starting. In perfect timing, you could feel Sen’s body weight on top of your feet. You bend down to scoop her up and once you did she couldn’t stop staring at your mother, who has guilt written all over her face.

You grab one of the cat’s paw and point them at your mom. “Sen says you have to go.” you murmur, frowning.

“Sen? Who’s, Sen?” she scoffs.

“Bye, mom.” you say and wave goodbye using Sen’s paw.

“Sweetie, don’t be mad at me you know I did it with good intentions.” she explains in a rush while you’re luring her to the door.

“Bye, mom.” you say with more clarity and shut the door once she stood on the other side. Sen mewls like she was sighing relief.

You love your mom but she’s like candy—they’re sweet but you can only have so much until you get a horrible tummy ache. Besides, she’s going to come back to your apartment and starting changing things around, pretending like nothing happened. It’s always been like this with her.

For the rest of the afternoon, you cocoon yourself in your bedroom with the curtains drawn shut and the lights turned off. It was a dungeon. The funny thing was, you loved the sunlight and you loved the way it entered your room and gave it more life. It’s funny how much things change.

While Sen was napping beside your legs, you binge watch a television show on your laptop and for some reason you start wondering if you ever watched this show before losing your memory of it. You haven’t stopped thinking about the ‘what ifs’ ever since a certain cold girl came into your life…again?

At some point during the night, you hear rain splatters hit your windows. When the sound of thunder erupted, your cat startled itself. She hops off your bed and crawls underneath it to shield itself from the threat of the thunderstorm. You’re surprised it’s raining so hard on one of the most dry and hot climates of the year.

Whenever there is a commercial break on the show your eyes couldn’t help but drift up to your bookshelf and stare at the missing basket. You swear there was one—a woven basket. If only your mind could tell you what was in them.

At some point during the show, your eyelids were starting to get heavy and your breathing was slowing down. You lazily shut your laptop and toss it to the side, calling it a night.

After adjusting your pillows, Sen appears from underneath the bed and leaps back on top.

“Ow!” you wince when she jumps on your chest, knocking the air out your lungs. Sen began hissing at the door and shielding herself beside you, like a trespasser was on the other side. You study at her odd behavior and wonder if she was seeing ghosts but when she stops hissing you could hear it. Several gentle knocks on the door—so faint that you and Sen might be imaging it. “Stay here.” you warn her and she blinks in response.

You groan as you go off the bed and stretch, not feeling a sense of urgency because you don’t think someone could be outside. It definitely wasn’t your mom, she hates going out in the rain—and she’s the only person you can think of.

When you open the door, your heart lurches. Sae-byeok is standing there, drenched from head to toe. Her wet strands of hair stuck to her forehead and sides of her face—her equally as wet clothes were clinging to the curves of her body. And the whites of her eyes were red with her lower lip trembling profusely—from the harsh weather outside and something more internal and sacred.

“You were the best friend I lost.” she confesses to you quietly. She sounds so terrified and vulnerable, it scares you. “And I miss you…so much.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Sae-byeok lost you—and after all this time, in her own way, she was still looking out for you. And you had the audacity to think she had malevolent intentions at some point.

But you don’t know what to do or say. So, she continues breathing heavily as you stare at her like she was a puzzle you were trying to solve. When you saw her shivering you snap out of it—out of the brain fog.

You open the door further, signaling for her to enter inside. It took her a moment to do so because she couldn’t stop staring at you in shock. You could only nod. She hesitates at first but she does shuffle inside like a wounded animal and stands awkwardly to the side.

She mumbles an apology when her clothes began dripping rain water on the floor causing a small pool to form. You scurry to your room and rummage through your drawer, once you find your comfiest sweater and sweatpants you toss them over your shoulders then head back to her.

There was no hesitation when she took the clothes you offered, maybe the cold and the discomfort of her wet clothes were too unbearable. You watch the way she heads to your bathroom, not needing any sort of direction and it makes your stomach feel uneasy again.

This is hard. No one prepares you for a situation like this. Losing someone you technically never lost. The silence was deafening and the only thing you could do was silently stare at the kettle pot brewing for a hot cup of tea.

By the time Sae-byeok comes back changed into your clothes, you have her tea and a banana muffin for her. It was easy to guide her around wherever you wanted, she was like putty in your hands.

She sits down on your couch with the tea and muffin. Slowly but surely, she starts eating.

Like she could sense the tension, Sen reveals herself and casually strolls past Sae-byeok to leap into your lap. Sae-byeok’s once frightened eyes twinkle in curiosity ever so slightly. “What’s its name?” she whispers lowly.

“She’s, Sen.” you reply, rubbing underneath her chin and she mewls in satisfaction.

“Sen…” she trails off and exhales an airy short lived laugh.

Timidly, you observe her. Her cheeks were as pink as ever from enduring the cold heavy rain and her long lanky fingers still were shaky. When she notices your staring, she looks up and you see her eyes still sparkling with tears.

Blush crept up your neck and you have to clear your throat to speak. “The rain is only getting worse…Do you maybe want to stay the night?” you suggest cautiously.

She blows out an air of disbelief. “You don’t have to be nice to me just because I said all that stuff.” she croaks out, still a slight tremble in her voice.

“I’m being genuine.” you say with more fervor.

“Technically I’m a stranger.” she says casually and takes another sip of tea.

“No.”

“No?” she repeats in shock.

All the words start forming and a surge of confidence emerges. “You’re my best friend.”

“But…”

Another thunder roars through the walls of your apartment, scaring off Sen as she sprints to your room to seclude herself. Now, it was really only you and Sae-byeok, alone. “As long as you have your memories of us, our friendship is still alive.” you reply weakly after a long pause.

She looks at you, face blank and quickly goes back to sipping her drink. Clearly, she has a lot to say but can’t find it in herself to do so.

“Or not…” you murmur when she doesn’t reply.

“I really did miss you though.” she shyly reassures you a little more louder. “I guess I came here to check up on you.”

“Almost a month later?” you query, ignoring the rapid pace in which your heart is beating.

Sae-byeok swirls around the mug and stares at the whirling content. “What I do to survive isn’t pretty. I get wrapped up in a lot of—things. You shouldn’t be a part of that.”

“Like threatening, Dasom?” you ask, a small smile on your lips. Her eyes grow wide for a split second while continuing to stare at the cup before gulping back her nervousness. “Don’t worry. I’m not mad.”

Her eyes flutter up to gaze out the window which was completely glossed over with thick droplets. She sniffs and places the now empty mug on the floor. “Maybe I could…stay?” she suggests.

“Good.” you smile.

“I’ll sleep here.” she pats on the couch cushion and you let out a wince soon after. “What?”

You scratch the back of your head nervously. “I don’t think that’s the best idea…”

“Why not?”

“Uh.” you start off with an anxious chuckle. “Well, to be fair Sen wasn’t a hundred percent potty trained until recently—“

“Gross.” she crinkles her nose and places her hands on top of her lap instead. “I should go then—“

“You will sleep in my bed—my mind is made up.” you say calmly and reach over to grab the empty cup and take the muffin wrapper from her hands. Her mouth parts open slightly.

After taking ten whole minutes to convince Sae-byeok to rest in your bed, she finally was too worn out to object further. When she shuffles her tired legs to your room, you bring your two blankets and pillow to the couch.

“You’re disgusting by the way.” you quietly scold Sen, who is lying by the windowsill now that the rain has calmed down.

You place the larger blanket on top of the sofa as a comforter and start getting comfortable. As comfortable as a couch can be…

You tried to position your laying body in several different ways but none of them were comfortable enough, this couch just wasn’t made to get a full nights rest on. Or maybe your mind is too restless.

She’s your best friend and she misses you…a lot according to her. Your stomach flutters at the idea of chipping away at Sae-byeok’s icy nature. You wonder how close and comfortable you guys were—did you guys often sleep on the same bed or was that too intimate? You don’t think it’s that intimate, you used to share the same bed with your college friends all the time. But maybe with Sae-byeok it’s different. Even the tiniest gestures has a different layer of intimacy with her.

“Stop it.” you groan when Sen starts kneading her paws on the end of your blanket, tickling your feet in the process. “You restless cat.” you huff.

It’s unclear how long you’ve been awake just staring around the dark living room with nothing but a sleepless cat and your thoughts. You wonder if she dozed off by now.

You rub your tired eyes and decide to head to the bathroom to wash your face, hoping it’ll clear your mind. The cool water splashing your face definitely relaxed the blush that never seemed to go away the moment she came to your apartment. After drying your face you step out the bathroom and freeze up when you hear your bedroom door creak open.

“Can’t sleep either?” you sigh.

Sae-byeok emerges from your room, her hair more tousled and puffy after letting it dry. Her eye bags were also more prominent underneath the faint lighting illuminating the hallway. She gives you a weak and tired nod before leaning against the door, her freckled cheeks protruding.

“Should we share the bed instead?” she suggests casually with a yawn.

You quietly sigh in relief and nod—your back would’ve been killed by morning if you slept in that stiff couch any longer. “Let me just get my things then.”

When you mutually agreed to share the same bed you didn’t think it’d be so awkward. Not even Sen, who found solace sleeping by the corner, eased any tension in the air. You both lay on opposite sides and face up at the ceiling with nothing but soft breathing and rainfall being heard. And you could hear Sae-byeok still being awake by her yawning. That yawn rang so familiar in your ears.

“Sae-byeok.” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“How close were we?”

“Close.” she replies dryly and starts yawning some more.

“Would we like,” you began and contemplate finishing the sentence before deciding to do so. “sleep on the same bed together?”

This time she replied after a brief pause. “Mhm.”

“Was it often?”

“I guess.”

“Wow.” you hum after putting her answers into thoughts. You wonder if it took you ten minutes the first time to suggest Sae-byeok to stay the night or if it was her idea from the start. And was the tension this thick the first time as well?

“What?” she asks with a bit of concern.

“We must’ve been really close then.”

You hear the sound of a pillow rustling, she must be facing you now. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess this bed is sort of cramped so…”

When you look to your side, you see her shadowy figure start to sit up. “If you’re uncomfortable I’ll—“

“I didn’t say that.” you quickly say and wait for her to start lowering back on the mattress with a sigh of comfort. She doesn’t see it but a teasing smile is starting to creep up in your lips. “Did we cuddle?” you ask in a playful manner.

“God, you have so many questions late at night.” she groans and you hear her shifting around the bed. Probably turned around so her back would face you.

You do your best to hold back the snort trying to escape. If anything, you hope you teased Sae-byeok back then. “Okay, I’ll stop then. Have a good night.” you say and allow yourself to get comfortable now. It was getting too late anyway—you’re amazed that the sun didn’t start rising yet.

In order to really get comfy you also had to face your back away from Sae-byeok’s lulling figure. Now that it was complete silence you heard Sen’s purring in between you and Sae-byeok’s feet.

While trying to get your mind to finally rest, you couldn’t help but think that nothing in this world mattered this very moment but whatever is happening in this room. You secretly hope this feeling never ends and when it does, you might crave it every single day. It’s the first time since the accident you felt some type of closure in your life.

You take a deep breath in and commit yourself to rest. Maybe everything will be still like this tomorrow when you wake up.

“We did.”

You hold your breath, wondering if you heard something. She starts rustling in bed some more and you swallow thickly. So, you probably did hear right. When you feel the movement stop, you open your eyes and reluctantly move your head to peer over your shoulders. Of course, you only saw a faint silhouette of the cold faced girl. Maybe you’re too tired and made it up.

You plop your face back down on the pillow and shut your eyes tightly. But you heard more stirring and the bed began to slightly shake in the process.

“Did you say something just now?” you croak out and she stops moving when she hears your voice.

She doesn’t respond right away. “I…I said we did.”

“Ah.” you mumble groggily. “Was it nice?”

“You still don’t know how to ask good questions I see.”

It’s almost as if you can hear her smile as she talked. In this moment you feel like you have known her for a long time. Never was it this easy for you to find this much ease with a person.

And you know what she wants and it would be amusing to tease her to make her directly ask you but frankly, you’re too tired.

You shuffle closer to her and easily found your way to the crook of her neck where you rest your head in while she remains stiff. After that, everything else was just a hazy recollection.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

(summer, 2020)

Sae-byeok lets the cigarette rest between her teeth as she rummages through her pockets to find her lighter. After running errands for Deok-su, the only solace she has at the end of the night is to stroll around town and smoke. It was an unhealthy habit she picked up as a means of escaping from all the stress she endures. With Cheol, complaining about the children’s home and her mother still nowhere to be found up in the North, she has nothing but the comfort of cigarettes to keep her going.

As she goes on her leisurely stroll, she couldn’t help but think of a particular book quote over and over. ‘But I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I guess I was crying because we had nowhere else to go, no choice but to go on living in this world. Crying because we had no other world to choose, and crying at everything before us, everything around us.’ She couldn’t get that off her mind. It was hard to imagine her feelings reflect in such a raw way through a book—like it ripped the thoughts off of her mind. Maybe she enjoyed that particular Heaven book. She wonders how many other books like it there are in the world—probably millions. We’re all tormented sad individuals after all.

When she turns a corner, with no intention of following a clear path, she sees a strange sight. A girl was sitting by the sidewalk—in front of a giant puddle and had her face buried in between her knees. She was probably crying. Maybe over a heartbreak or a death of a pet—could be anything. Or nothing.

There’s actually a lot of crying individuals, Sae-byeok sees them almost everyday. But this particular person she had no idea why she couldn’t take her eyes off them. It wasn’t until she saw something that looked like a book propped up against them when she had an inkling. Why would you have all people by crying? You graduated early from college and found a secure job right after—you probably live on your own. Sounds like the perfect life.

Sae-byeok inhales a puff of smoke and lets it dance around the air before trying to contemplate whether to find out. She walks over to you, taking her merry time.

“You should get off before a car comes and splashes you with dirt water.” she tells you coolly before placing the cigarette in between her teeth.

You get startled by her low voice and she meets your wet face. But it’s strange, you don’t feel shame like many others do for showing yourself crying.

“G—Good.” you hiccup. “Then maybe my dad’s photo will reappear from the puddle.”

She raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

You stare at her before shaking your head, deciding it’s best to keep the conversation light. Sae-byeok stares at the puddle, which looks like black ink thanks to the night sky reflecting off it and she sees something odd in the middle. A torn up sheet of—paper? Oh.

“It’s the only thing I had…” you mumble before using all your might to pick yourself off the ground. “I dropped my wallet somewhere in there too.”

“Why don’t you go grab it?”

“…I only care about him.” you whisper, sounding fragile. “I want to…pick it up but it’s ruined, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

Sae-byeok shouldn’t be harsh. She was being too harsh. Hell, she would probably behave the same way you are if the only thing containing her parents was gone. But she isn’t a person that comforts. She gulps, trying to think of anything to alleviate the ache. But why is she trying?

“I liked the book.”

You let out a sniffle and wipe any tears left with the edges of your sleeve. “I—I knew it.”

Before Sae-byeok could reply a car whizzed by, runs through the puddle and causes a huge wave to wash over both of you.

“Fuck!” she hisses and drops her cigarette to wipe down her face with her palms. “Fucker!” she shouts to the car driving off. They start getting looks by passerby’s—especially when you start laughing. “Why the hell are you laughing?”

“It’s your fault.” you say matter-of-factly with a melancholic laugh. “That’s karma for what you said earlier, Sae-byeok. Look…my apartment is right here do you want to shower and change or are you going home with puddle water?”

Sae-byeok doesn’t have much of a choice does she?

🏷️: @lyzem @monkey4lifer @tlouloser @bitchybananaflower @yenyu1s @marfe816 @gummyoonji @peelover25 @saebyeokbliss @knfthxv @we1rdth0ughts @monroesturnns @wiltingconquest @noaanotfound @tyresedidujsfart @madebysae @jumpedthenfell-13

[makethatelevenrings]

Regency AU - Jason Todd

@sio-ina-bottle pls don't look at my discord profile and see how long I played Vivaldi and the Bridgerton OST on repeat when writing this I beg of you.

This is part of the 5k followers celebration. There are still spots open! Get your requests in now!

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, alludes to abusive relationships and cheating, allusions to Jason's PTSD/past (war)

The Wayne Ball was one of the highlights of the season, your mother reminded you. It was a full day event that would require you to be at your best for the entire day. You would need to smile until your jaw ached, dance until your shoes pinched your feet, and talk about meaningless things until your brain felt like it might atrophy. But it was necessary to secure a husband.

Ever since your father’s gambling debt increased and your family coffers decreased, the pressure on you grew. Your mother had expressed her regret of it “being like this” but she didn’t seem to care if you liked the man you were supposed to marry. She shoved you at any willing man of the Ton, even if rumors swirled around his late night visits to a brothel or his heavy-handedness with his late wife.

This was your fate, it seemed.

The small crystalline glass of lemonade that you gripped in your hand seemed to be your lifeline. You were unable to dance if you were parched and so you took your time savoring the taste of its tartness against your tongue. Somewhere in the crowd of people, your mother discussed with the other worried mothers of hopeless girls, most likely lamenting over how pathetic your marriage prospects seemed.

Baron Lawrence Crock eyed you from across the room and you blanched, raising your glass to your lips in an attempt to evade his glance. Your dance card was only half-full and you knew he had expressed interest in you before. Yet the stories of his cruelty made you wary. A disinterested man you could marry, but a cruel one?

You slipped past the crush of bodies that lingered on the edges of the dance floor and made your way towards the door. One glance behind you confirmed your suspicions. He was making his way to you. Your mother wasn’t paying attention and even if she was, she would encourage the match. He has a sizable fortune, she would say. With money like that, you could look away when he came home late from a brothel. Just bear him one or two children and you would be fine.

Your heart thudded painfully against your chest as you escaped through the large ornate doors of the ballroom and into the velvet carpeted hall. Gathering your skirts in your hand, you hurried down the hall in any direction but here. Wayne Manor was huge and you hardly knew how to get to the ballroom. Where on earth were you heading?

“Are you alright, miss?” a gentle voice asked you as you skittered around the corner and came face to face with a hall of doors. You blanched but relaxed at the sight of a kindly old butler. He glanced over your shoulder and then smiled at you, a kind and assuring smile rather than the patronizing ones you were so used to at home.

“There’s no one following you, miss.” You startled at his words and shook your head.

“I was just looking for fresh air,” you lied. He gestured to the other end of the hall and you let out a nervous laugh. The butler didn’t appear to judge you. Rather, he seemed to understand you.

“The stars are beautiful from the balcony,” he said gently. “And I am quite proud of the flowers that line the stone. Wisteria, gardenia, and camellia.”

You brightened and took his proffered arm. “I love gardening. I’m currently growing some lilacs, but my gardener, Mrs. Haywood, tells me that I should expand. She lets me help with the vegetables and I find that fresh tomatoes are so much better than anything purchased in the market, don’t you think?”

He chuckled as the two of you stepped onto the stone balcony. “I find myself inclined to agree, miss.” The butler tilted his head towards the shadows and cleared his throat. “Master Jason, I hope you aren’t out here to avoid the ball I so painstakingly helped put together.”

A huff of laughter came from the shadows and a man followed it. The thin light of the moon coupled with the candles that burned in their sconces on the wall gave you a good look at him. He had to be one of the Wayne boys, you noted, with those teal eyes and dark hair, but you had never seen him before.

“Oh.” Your voice failed you for a moment as you took in the sheer size of him. Many of the men of the Ton boasted about their athletic accomplishments, but this man truly looked as though he engaged in some physical pursuit on the regular. A shock of white hair stood out at the front of his dark, messy locks and you had the sudden urge to run your fingers over it.

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying. “I didn’t realize someone else was out here. I can go back to th-”

“That won’t be necessary,” the man, Jason, the butler had called him, replied. “Alfred, would you be able to stay for a few moments to ensure Miss…” You offered him his name and he nodded, repeating it in that rough voice of his. “To ensure her propriety.”

A flush of indignation crept up your neck and you averted your gaze from the gentleman. Stepping closer to the fenced off edge, you craned your head up to study the stars. They truly were beautiful like Alfred said.

“Andromeda,” you breathed to yourself. Her stars glittered brightly in the night sky. The myths of antiquity had always fascinated you and you loved connecting the stars to their mythological counterparts.

“The wife of Perseus,” Lord Jason said. He settled in on the other end of the balcony and leaned against the stone. You turned your face away from his unyielding gaze and kept your focus on the sky.

“Chained to the rock because of her mother’s vanity and cruelty,” you continued. “Intended to be a sacrifice for the monster Cetus.”

“Do you believe her to be helpless?”

You considered his question and then turned to finally look at him. There was no judgment in his gaze. No cruelty or spite or anger. There was only curiosity, something you so rarely saw in the eyes of those you met at these balls.

“Yes, but no. She was helpless in that moment, but I think we all have those moments. Those times when someone else must come to the rescue, if not to save us from an outside force, but maybe from ourselves. The theme runs through a lot of stories. Heracles, Tristan and Isolde, Saint George in Spenser’s work. I think she isn’t helpless, no. I think she’s just human.”

He inhaled sharply against the night air and you were afraid that you had said the wrong thing. This wasn’t a proper topic of discussion for a young woman. Perhaps you should go back inside. Your mother was probably looking for you.

You turned to head back inside when his voice stopped you. “And do you believe that he truly fell in love with her with just one look?”

The moon bathed your face as you faced him and he noted the way it made your eyes shine just a little brighter. He had been in the ballroom when you were pressed in the corner, avoiding everyone’s gaze. No matter how hard he tried, he had been unable to tear his gaze from you. When he saw you escape from the ballroom, he took that as his chance to go outside and take a deep breath, maybe smoke a cigarette.

He never accounted for you.

“Is it foolish for me to say that I do believe he did?”

Jason couldn’t tear his eyes from yours and frankly, he didn’t want to. There was something about you that made him want to find the nearest monster that threatened you and slay it. After he came back from war, his family noted the darkness in his eyes and the sleepless nights. He played pretend at these stupid balls with no intention of forcing someone into a loveless marriage. How could he be a good husband when he couldn’t seem to wipe the blood off his hands?

He looked at them now and saw nothing but scarred skin.

“You like to read?” he asked carefully. You seemed more settled now and you made your way back to the stone railing. When your eyes met the sky once more, he took in the soft slope of your neck and the curve of your jaw. His hands curled into fists in an attempt to stop him from reaching out and touching the small tendril of hair that curled around your ear.

“I enjoy it.” You said it as if you had to balance every word. “Do you?”

“The library here at the manor is brilliant,” came his breathless reply. “Books from all around the world. You could read all day for the rest of your life and never finish them all.”

“That sounds wonderful. My parents find little care for books,” you admitted. “My governess tried her best, but I’m sure I’ve missed out on many stories.”

Let me tell them to you, he wanted to say. Rather, he merely replied with, “I could show it to you. The library, that is.”

Alfred cleared his throat, a tinge of regret in the old man’s face, and he gestured towards the open door. “Your mother will be getting worried now, miss.”

“Right. Yes. Sorry.” Jason didn’t understand why you were apologizing. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t hear the drums of war crashing in a neverending echo against his ears. He didn’t see the blood on his hands. He only saw and heard you. And then you were gone.

Two days later, you sat in the drawing room and slid the needle of your embroidery in and out of the smooth fabric. The elegant knot of yarn bloomed upon the canvas, but you found yourself unable to find joy in the small success.

“A caller for Miss,” one of the footmen announced. You set your stitching down and stood next to your mother, fully anticipating Baron Crock to step through the door and into your life.

But it was someone else entirely. Lord Jason Todd-Wayne made his formal introduction with your mother before stepping off to the side of the drawing room with you, still in full view of your chaperone.

“I brought you this,” he said softly, extending a well-worn book out to you from his seat on the opposite seat. You gingerly took it and opened the cover to find that it was an anthology of mythologies from around the world. A surprised gasp escaped you and you looked up in surprise at the man before you. His teal eyes glinted with mischief and something else. Closing the cover, you set the book next to you and busied yourself with pouring him some tea.

Perhaps this was your future. A handsome man discussing books with you as you poured him tea. There was no anger in his fists or eyes. There was no fear in your heart.

If this was your fate, you reckoned, then so be it.

[lcvver]

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦

chapter two !

| 𝓘n a secluded garden, Minji seeks refuge from the burdens of her aristocratic life. There, she encounters a free-spirited girl tending to roses, sparking a connection that challenges Minji's understanding of duty and freedom.

princess!k.minji x fem!reader

a/n: This is my first post here (idk if i like this). Sorry for any mistakes, as english isn’t my first language. Maybe i’ll do more chapters of this

word count: 1577

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The sweet scent of the flowers mingled with the smell of freshly cut grass, and Minji walked slowly along the gravel paths of the garden, trying to escape the weight of the castle. The conversations that still echoed in the halls of the mansion seemed distant now, as if time had dissolved among the tall trees and bushes, creating a fresh, green labyrinth. There was something deep and serene about that place, something she always sought when she wanted to find some peace amidst the endless events and expectations that everyone around her insisted on imposing.

Her attention was diverted by a soft, almost imperceptible movement near the wrought-iron bench where bunches of wisteria fell in purple spirals, touching the ground. There, a figure was crouched, with hands dirty with earth, delicately manipulating the roots of a small rose bush, as if she had a special intimacy with that space. The silhouette was feminine, but the looser posture, less rigid than that of someone in Minji's position, caught her attention.

She watched for a few seconds, more fascinated by the grace with which the girl handled the plant than by her appearance. The figure didn't seem to notice Minji's presence, and in the silence of the garden, she allowed herself to stay there, watching. When the other girl finally stood up, stretching her arms above her head, the late afternoon light played in her hair. Her face wasn't unfamiliar, but Minji didn't recognize her for that reason. She wasn't from her society; she wasn't a figure that was easily found in the halls of her house.

Then you looked at Minji, as if you finally felt her there, and she noticed something that made her hold her breath. There was no shyness in your gaze, but something that bordered on a freedom that Minji had never been able to understand, a freedom that she felt was unattainable for her, the daughter of a lineage of respect and unbreakable duties.

An almost imperceptible smile touched your lips, but it was not a smile of social politeness. It was more like a smile of someone who recognizes an affinity that exists beyond words, beyond the invisible borders that delimited their lives.

Minji should have said something, taken the first step towards a banal conversation, as expected. But instead, she stood still, as if she were faced with an opportunity that she did not know if she should or could accept.

The air felt charged with a silent connection, a thread woven between you in that secluded corner of the garden. Minji’s heart raced; the vibrant colors of the flowers around her seemed to pale in comparison to the warmth radiating from you standing before her. She wondered who this stranger was, this girl who moved with such confidence and ease, as if the world around her was a canvas waiting to be painted.

“What are you doing?” Minji finally managed to ask, her voice breaking the silence like a whisper in a cathedral.

You turned fully to face her, and in that moment, the distance between your lives seemed vast and insignificant. “Just planting a little patch of beauty,” you replied, your voice light and inviting. “These roses will bloom soon, but they need tending to thrive.”

Minji felt a pang of envy at your simplicity, the way you spoke of life and growth without the burden of obligation. “I wish I could do that,” she admitted, her own words surprising her. “I mean, plant something and watch it grow without worrying about the consequences.”

Your eyes sparkled, a mix of mischief and understanding. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”

Minji hesitated, the echoes of her upbringing flooding her mind—expectations, duties, the unyielding path set before her. “I have responsibilities,” she said, almost apologetically. “Things I need to maintain.”

“Responsibilities can be a cage,” you mused, stepping closer, your hands brushing against the leaves. “But they can also be a choice. You decide how to live within them.”

Minji’s chest tightened. The garden, once a refuge, now felt like a stage for a conversation she’d never dared to have. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you admitted, your tone softening. “But it’s worth the struggle. Finding freedom in small moments—like this.” You gestured around them, to the flowers swaying gently in the breeze, the sun casting dappled shadows across the ground.

You were silent for another second, each lost in thought. “What’s your name?” she finally asked, her curiosity piqued.

You responded, giving her your name, a hint of warmth in your gaze. “And you?”

“Minji,” she said, the name feeling heavier than usual, laden with the expectations that came with it.

“Nice to meet you, Minji. Come, help me with this rosebush. You may find it more rewarding than you think.”

Minji hesitated, staring at the castle looming in the distance, the weight of her lineage pressing against her. But looking into your encouraging eyes, she felt a flicker of something—a spark of possibility.

Stepping forward, she knelt beside you, the cool earth between her fingers feeling firm and real. “What do I do?”

“Just follow my lead,” you said, your smile lighting up the fading afternoon light. “And remember, it’s okay to let go a little.”

As you both worked side by side, Minji felt the edges of her world begin to blur. With each handful of soil they turned, she felt the beginnings of a new understanding, a whisper of freedom blossoming in her heart. Maybe this garden held more than just flowers; maybe it held a chance for her to redefine her own path, one rooted in her choices, not just her obligations.

With each rosebush they tended, Minji felt a sense of liberation unfurling within her. The rich aroma of the earth mixed with the sweet fragrance of the blossoms enveloped her, creating a cocoon of warmth and possibility. She watched as you demonstrated how to prune the thorns, your hands moving with a practiced grace, as if each cut was a small act of rebellion against the confines of expectation.

“Why roses?” Minji asked, trying to keep the conversation light while her heart raced with the thrill of this newfound connection.

“They’re resilient,” you replied, glancing at her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. “They can withstand harsh conditions, but they bloom beautifully when cared for. It’s a reminder that beauty often emerges from struggle.”

Minji pondered your words. They resonated deeply, echoing the conflicts within her own life. “I’ve always been told that beauty and duty go hand in hand,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “That to be beautiful is to be perfect, polished, and proper.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “True beauty comes from authenticity, not perfection. When you embrace your flaws and choices, that’s when you truly shine.”

Minji felt a warmth spread through her, a mixture of admiration and yearning. “How do you know all this?” she asked, genuinely curious.

You paused, considering your response. “I’ve had to find my way through a lot of expectations too. Just in a different garden, so to speak. It’s a journey, and I’m still learning.”

In that admission, Minji saw a reflection of her own struggles, a shared understanding that transcended their different worlds. “What would you do if you could choose your own path?” she asked, her heart pounding at the vulnerability of her question.

You smiled, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. “I’d travel, explore the world, plant gardens wherever I go, and meet people who inspire me. I’d find beauty in every corner of life.”

A wistful sigh escaped Minji’s lips. “I’ve always wanted to see beyond these walls, to experience life outside the castle. But it feels like a distant dream.”

“Then make it less distant,” you encouraged, your voice a gentle nudge. “Start with small steps. You don’t have to uproot everything at once. Just find a way to incorporate a little of that dream into your reality.”

Minji considered this, her mind racing with possibilities. “And what if I fail?”

You turned to face her, your gaze steady and reassuring. “Failure is just a part of growth. Every rose has thorns, remember? It’s okay to stumble as long as you keep planting.”

Inspired by your words, Minji felt a spark ignite within her. “Maybe I can start by coming here more often,” she said, a smile creeping onto her face. “To help you with the garden.”

“I’d love that,” you replied, your smile brightening the fading light. “We can create something beautiful together.”

As the last light of day faded, casting a gentle glow around you, Minji glanced at the castle in the distance, its imposing presence now feeling less like a prison and more like a choice. She could navigate her life on her terms, one small decision at a time.

“Thank you,” she said softly, looking at you with gratitude. “For showing me that it’s okay to want more.”

You met her gaze with warmth and understanding. “And thank you for being brave enough to take this step. That’s the first of many.”

As the stars twinkled overhead, Minji felt a sense of hope take root within her, as vibrant and tenacious as the roses they had planted. In that garden, she was no longer just a daughter of duty; she was a gardener of her own destiny, ready to cultivate the life she truly desired.

—